Make A Wish Harry
by SeverusForevermore
Summary: When Snape hears that the famous Harry Potter, son of the golden lion James Potter, is coming to Hogwarts, he can barely contain his contempt. After Dumbledore 'insists' that Snape looks out for The Boy Who Lived no matter what, he 'begrudgingly' agrees – little knowing that one look at those emerald green eyes could change everything. NO slash! Severitus/Guardian
1. Chapter 1

Hi :)

This is a typical Harry/Snape fan fiction because they're my two favourite characters and it's so sad that Harry never gets to know how much Snape has helped him until he dies, so this is a sort of "what if Harry knew" story :P

I'd really appreciate any reviews/feedback :) This first chapter is just to get the story started, so the beginning of it is quite obvious :D

Disclaimer: Obviously, I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter series and it's entirely JK's creation ;)

Chapter 1 – The Boy Who Lived.

Laying on the cold, hard floor of a stone cabin lay a small, scrawny boy with scruffy hair, wide glasses and a t-shirt that was at least two sizes too big. In the dusty film that covered the stone slabs beneath him, the boy traced a picture of a birthday cake, with 11 little candles on top. As his cousin's watch beeped for midnight, he whispered glumly "Make a wish Harry." And with that, he drew in a deep breath, closed his eyes and blew at the dust until the candles were no longer visible against the stone floor. For most children, their birthday was a day of joy and excitement. For Harry Potter, the 31st of July was a day of hardship, abuse and discrimination; a day like any other with the Dursleys.

Ever since Harry could remember, he had been a slave to his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, who had 'so kindly' given him a home, and in return he had been made to serve his relatives every day. He had never had presents; he had never been comforted or loved; and he had never had a real home. To Harry, life was a series of unhappiness, and he had never felt as though he belonged.

In that moment, Harry closed his eyes and tried desperately to imagine his earliest memory: His mother and father and the love that he felt from them. It made him feel safe, and secure, and he wished more than anything else that one day he could feel that way again. Then his thoughts jumped suddenly and he could see a green light flashing, and hear a woman screaming his name. He jolted, and opened his eyes once more.

Having finished blowing out his pretend candles, Harry felt the room shake as the door swung violently open, breaking at the hinges as it fell to the floor with a crash. Through the frame emerged a large, and very tall figure with matted hair, a knotted beard and a long leather coat. Frightened, Harry took shelter behind a stone column in the corner of the room. From upstairs he could hear his Uncle shouting, and his Aunt squealing in protest at having her door broken down. Dudley, Harry's cousin, woke with a jolt and stood helplessly in the middle of his room, his large belly flopping out of his striped pyjamas.

"Sorry about tha'" Boomed the gigantic man, his thick accent filling the room. He stooped down and picked up the door with one hand, placing it back in its frame as though nothing had happened. The Dursleys stared incredulously at the half-giant as he made himself at home on the sofa, taking out his umbrella and causing the fireplace to burst into flames.

"Ah, you must by Harry," the giant smiled, noticing Harry as he tentatively appeared from his place in the corner. "You 'aven't changed a bit.."

"S-sorry, sir. D-do I know you?" Asked Harry slowly, knowing that he wasn't usually allowed to talk to guests – if this man could be called a guest. Harry flashed a look at his Uncle as though waiting to be reprimanded for talking, but was surprised to see the Dursleys huddling together in a corner looking completely terrified.

"S...sir. I will not have this!" Piped up Vernon suddenly, trying in vain to hide his nerves. He was standing a few feet in front of his wife and child in an attempt to protect them, with a gun in his hand pointed towards the giant. "You are breaking and entering!" He spoke loudly, almost jumping on his stumpy feet as he attempted to make himself heard. However, the effect was lost as the huge visitor slowly walked over and grabbed hold of the end of the rifle, bending it upwards so that it shot a hole in the cabin's roof.

"Dry up Dursley, you great prune," He growled with a hint of a smile, before taking his place on the sofa once again and looking at Harry, "An' yes Harry, of course I know you...but yer right, you probably don' remember me..." he began to explain with a sad tone as he realised that, of course, the boy wouldn't have been old enough to remember. "I'm Rubeus Hagrid. Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts," He announced proudly, waiting for Harry to respond. However, when no answer came, he added, "Of course, you know all abou' Hogwarts...?"

"S-sorry, sir, no,"

Hagrid was outraged. "You mean to tell me you don' know abou' Hogwarts? Wha' have you been tellin' the boy all these years?" He exclaimed, addressing the last question to Harry's cowering relatives. Unsurprisingly, they didn't reply, so Hagrid continued talking to Harry, "Did you never wonder where yer parents learned it all?"

"Learnt what, sir?" Harry asked quietly, confused, but also excited that Hagrid knew about his parents.

"You mean you don' know-" Mid sentence, Hagrid got up once more and went over to Uncle Vernon, who had summoned up the courage to take a few further steps towards the giant.

"Now you just listen here. When Lily got herself blown-up we swore we'd put a stop to all this nonsense!" Vernon squeaked, unable to contain his fear and anger regarding the wizard that stood before him.

"Blown up?" Harry questioned quietly, knowing that he wasn't allowed to question his uncle.

"What's tha' Harry?" Hagrid questioned, wanting to know just exactly what the boy _did _know about the wizarding world.

"It's...well, it's just that I thought my parents died in a car crash..."

"A car crash?" Hagrid couldn't believe what he was hearing. "A car crash killed Lily and James Potter?" Hagrid was laughing to suppress his anger, and as he finished talking the room fell silent once more. Uncle Vernon, powerless to interfere, shuffled back to his wife as Hagrid moved over to Harry. He reached his hand into his large coat pocket, and pulled out a single letter with the words:

_Mr H Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea._

"STOP! I FORBID THIS!" Screamed Vernon with fear in his eyes.

"Ah, go boil yer head, Dursely...yer a wizard Harry," Hagrid said, winking at Harry.

"I'm a what?" Harry asked, not quite believing what was happening.

"A wizard. Go on, open it," And with that, Harry finally opened his letter, eager to find out what his Aunt and Uncle had been hiding from him all this time. Of all the fantastic scenarios he'd thought about, never in a million years had he imagined that he could be a wizard.

"There must be some mistake. I can't be...a wizard. I'm just a freak, I'm not magic,"

"O' course you are! Haven' you ever done somethin' that yer couldn' explain? Somethin' special when you were angry, or upset?" Harry thought about this, and with growing realisation he allowed himself to read the letter, his eyes lit up with curiosity and excitement.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledor_

_ (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_ Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards) _

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_ We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_ Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

Harry read the words allowed and waited for everything to sink in. A part of him thought this was all just a big joke, maybe set up by Dudley and his group of friends. The owls, the letters, and now the giant man called Hagrid; how could it be real? And yet Harry was sure that he'd never seen his Aunt and Uncle look so angry and afraid, and he very much doubted their acting ability to be so convincing. It was therefore with caution that Harry allowed himself to accept that maybe, this time, his birthday wish was about to come true.

Meanwhile, the teachers of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were congregated in the headmaster's office, awaiting his instructions as to how the upcoming year was going to start, and what their roles would be. It was a large and beautiful circular room, full of funny little noises. A number of curious silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. The walls were covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom were snoozing gently in their frames. There was also an enormous, claw-footed desk, and, sitting on a shelf behind it, a shabby, tainted wizard's hat – the Sorting Hat.

The headmaster was Professor Dumbledore. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. Here he stood behind his desk, not wanting to be rude and sit while his guests were made to stand before him, and began speaking to his colleagues.

"It is my pleasure to welcome you all back!" Dumbledore began in a voice brimming with admiration for his staff members. "I trust you have all had a pleasant break, filled with merriment and plenty of sherbet lemons!" He continued to beam, and some of the teachers beamed back – Madam Pomfrey notably so, for her plump and smiling face filled the room almost as much as Dumbledore's twinkling eyes. Some, however, were less inclined to reciprocate the headmaster's joviality, and instead listened intently with pursed lips.

"Now, as you all know, we are to be expecting 41 new students this year, and as always, Hagrid shall be organising the boats," Dumbledore instructed slowly, "and Minerva, the usual routine?" Professor _McGonagall nodded her head once and smiled a thin, but warm smile to show that she was more than happy to oblige._

_ Dumbledore continued with his fairly ordinary speech, outlining as usual that the Forbidden Forest was out-of-bounds to all students; that the restricted section of the Library was to remain restricted at all times but for exceptional circumstances; and that no students should be out of bed after hours. In fact, when the teachers and care-takers, and house elves all turned on their heels to leave, everybody thought that Dumbledore had finished._

_ However, they were soon proven wrong as Dumbledore called out amongst the bustle of feet: "Minerva, Severus, a word if I may?" _

_ The two teachers fought against the crowd and hurriedly made their way back to Dumbledore's desk, where they waited to be spoken to. _

_ "Now, as you know we've been having some trouble with regards to Mr Harry Potter's letter," Dumbledore began, addressing Professor McGonagall, who nodded in confirmation, "Well, I am pleased to inform you both that Hagrid has successfully delivered the letter, and is as we speak taking Harry to Diagon Alley to collect the necessary bits and bobs..."_

_ Why is it exactly that you needed us, Professor?" Snape asked tiredly, but with an element of concern in his voice. He could of course guess that Professor McGonagall was needed because she was the Deputy Head, and therefore involved in ensuring that all first years receive their letters. Where he came in all of this, however, was puzzling. _

_ "Ah, well, you see, I thought it only right that I inform McGonagall that Harry has indeed been given his letter. As for you, my dear man, I'd have thought it were obvious." Severus thought to himself curtly that it was not at all obvious, and if the man wouldn't stop beating about the bush then he was likely to walk out. "Severus, surely you can appreciate more than anyone else the dangers that await young Mr Potter here at Hogwarts," At this, the smile on Dumbledore's face dropped to a sincere expression of concern. "The boy will have enough to worry about this year without having to face Voldemort -" _

_ "Albus, please!" Interjected McGonagall, who had hoped the mention of He Who Must Not Be Named might not have occurred quite so early into the school term._

_ "Minerva, we can ignore it all we like. I'm sure Voldemort will attempt to harm Mr Potter whether we talk about him or not. The matter is, Hogwarts may well be the safest place for the young boy over the next few years. And as such, it is my role to ensure that Mr Potter has someone to look out for him during his time here," In saying those words, Dumbledore's eyes flashed towards Severus, who was afraid he knew where this was going, "Which is why, Severus my dear man, I would like you to be that someone. After all, after poor James Potter you were closest to Lily. I'm sure she would be most happy if she knew you were looking out for her boy..."_

_ Severus Snape, who had been dressed the entire time in a dark black robe which he now used to flare out at the sides to show that he was not happy, thought about protesting._

"Albus, do you not think that it might be more appropriate for Hagrid to-"

_ "My dear man," Albus said once again, raising a polite hand as though to justify his interjection, "I would trust Hagrid with my life, and I'm sure that he is taking great care of Harry at this very moment. But only you can protect the boy in the way that Lily could protect him...I think you know that, Severus."_

_ Dumbledore's eyes were once again twinkling, in a manner of which made Professor McGonagall wonder if he was up to something. He did seem very excited, as though a wonderful plan was formulating. McGonagall was about to point out that Severus Snape would hardly be as caring as Lily, before thinking better of it. Besides, she knew how kind Severus could be outside of his rather cruel lessons. As for Snape, he could barely contain his disdain for the golden Boy Who Lived, and that idiot James Potter. But somehow Dumbledore had left him powerless to object any further: after all, he was Lily's child as well as Potter's. _


	2. Chapter 2

Hi :)

So to avoid falling into the trap of basically re-writing what JK Rowling wrote, just take it as a given that shopping in Diagon Alley pretty much went as in the Philosopher's Stone :D

Apart from that this chapter is pretty much canon but with some differences and additions ;) Like I said before, it'll get more and more Snape/Harry based over the next few chapters.

Disclaimer: Needless to say, I still don't own The Wizarding World. JK Rowling created all the characters in this and the entire Harry Potter series belongs to her :)

Chapter 2 – Potions Revision

"Have yer got everything Harry?" Asked Hagrid as he and Harry walked towards King's Cross station. Harry checked through his trolley, which contained his newly purchased books, ingredients, cauldron, and of course his snowy white owl Hedwig. He then patted his sides to check for his wand – Holly and Phoenix Feather, 11 inches – and finally his pockets to make sure he could hear the clinking of galleons and sickles and knuts he had taken from his Gringotts vault.

"Yes, sir...thank you," Harry finally verified when he was sure he had everything.

"Right then, well...I bes' be off...Dumbledore will be wantin' his..." Hagrid patted his large coat pocket, where he had put the small parcel taken from vault 713, before remembering to keep his secret and continuing, "well, he'll be wantin' ta see me."

As Hagrid finished, Harry looked down at his Hogwarts Express ticket one last time, just so that he could check that everything was in order before Hagrid left. However, as he looked back around the giant was already gone, and so it was with a feeling of great apprehension that Harry wheeled is trolley towards the bustle of people; hurrying business men, families over-run with excited children, couples laden with luggage – all rushing to one platform or another. But where on Earth was platform 9 ¾?

A sinking feeling of stupidity washed over Harry Potter as he watched the scene before him.

_ Look at them; all going to real platforms with their proper suitcases and real money. It was all just a big joke, and I am such a freak. I am just too stupid and weird to notice even when a giant man gives me a train ticket with platform 9 ¾ written on it! It's all my fault...I should probably just go back to Privet Drive... _

Just as Harry began to turn on his heels and leave, a woman in flowing knitted robes bobbed past with a bunch of children following. The children were each pushing a trolley with cages of owls and a rat, and cauldrons and books – some of which Harry could have sworn were growling. Having felt so deflated, a sudden sense of hope made Harry's heart skip as he saw the family rushing towards Platform 9 and 10. He followed in their footsteps, frightened to approach them just in case he'd got everything wrong, and was shocked to see one of the taller children (a ginger boy apparently named Percy) disappear through a wall in-between the two platforms.

Knowing better than to push in front, Harry decided to wait from behind as he watched the children disappear one by one, wondering just how they were able to walk _through _the wall. He half hoped that by watching it enough times he could learn by himself, but by the time there was just one boy left – a small ginger-haired boy with freckles and a smudge of dirt on his nose – he was none the wiser. So, reluctantly, Harry decided that his only chance was to ask the kindly looking woman in knitted robes.

"Excuse me," He announced shyly, knowing all too well that he wasn't allowed to speak to anyone without permission from his Uncle, "I was wondering how you...um..."

"How to get on the platform, dear?" Molly Weasley finished for the shy boy, who looked distinctly lost behind his round glasses and scruffy fringe, "Of course. All you have to do is walk straight at the wall between platforms 9 and 10. It won't hurt a bit! And don't worry about the muggles, they don't see anything, do they?" She said kindly, smiling from ear to ear and she explained what to do. Harry was still rather unsure, but was glad that the woman was being so kind. He decided that wizarding adults were a great deal kinder than muggle ones. "Don't worry dear, it's Ron's first time to Hogwarts as well..." Mrs Weasley gestured towards her son, who ran a hand through his hair and smiled awkwardly, "Go on now...best give it a bit of a run if you're nervous."

Harry smiled back at Ron, and drew a deep breath, before running straight towards the wall, a small part of him worried that he had finally gone completely mad.

Before he knew it, Harry saw a flash of darkness, and then the brightness of returning daylight. He had barely left King's Cross station before he was standing on a much busier, and far more interesting platform: Platform 9 ¾. Surrounding him were some small, and lots of older children, all waving goodbye to their parents. Adults – Harry assumed these were teachers – were ushering children onto the train, and helping first years with their heavy luggage. Owls were swooping around above the train, and some were being carted off to one of the carriages at the back of the train, where they would remain for the journey. In front of him stood the most magnificent steam engine Harry had ever seen. It was red and black, with puffs of smoke emitting from the chimney on top, and the words 'Hogwarts Express' written rather ornately at the very front of the train.

Harry gasped in awe, and it took him a few seconds to realise that he actually had to get on the train before it started to leave the platform. Walking with Ron, who seemed to look just as lost despite his wizarding upbringing, Harry stowed his trunk and other belongings with the rest of the Hogwarts students', and the two went in search of an empty carriage.

Professor Snape sat at his desk in the dungeons of Hogwarts, absent mindedly stirring a ladle through a cauldron filled with a steaming potion with a twist of his wrist. His office was a gloomy and dimly-lit room that smelt strongly of herbs and spices. The shadowy walls were lined with shelves of large glass jars filled with slimy, peculiar things; such as bits of animals and plants, floating in potions of various different colours. Snape sat on his carved wooden chair and allowed his mind to delve into the memories he had forgotten for so long, until now.

He remembered when he was just a boy, when he and Lily Evans would run around Spinner's End together and play at the local park. He would show her the great wonders of magic, and she would laugh and call him her friend. Together they would look forward to Hogwarts without any muggle in the world to stop them, not even Tobias Snape or Petunia Evans.

He remembered seeing Lily skip over to the Gryffindor table, to sit by golden boy James the idiot Potter. Through years of taunting, bullying and disdain, who could blame him for hating that Potter, and all of his Marauder friends? And still he loved Lily, and cared for her; even as she drifted away from him and chose to be with the one boy who had managed to make even his school life a misery. To think he had actually been looking forward to Hogwarts; it was his chance to finally get away from the hate and abuse he was so used to at home. But no: James bloody Potter had to ruin everything. How could he even think of helping any child of that bully?

But then he remembered Lily, and her sweet and caring nature. How she never judged him because he was in Slytherin, and how she had always tried to stop the Marauders from being cruel. She had such a talent for potions, and such a kind and loving manner. He had sworn to love her for the rest of his life...how could he let a child of hers ever come to danger? And her beautiful emerald eyes...

And he remembered the last time he ever saw those eyes. That dreadful day when everything changed. He had entered the house and cradled Lily's body in his arms, and had comforted Harry as though he was his own. For that split second nothing else had mattered but his love for Lily...

_But that is in the past. If it wasn't for that perfect Potter and his perfect Boy Who Lived, Lily would still be alive and I wouldn't be alone._

Snape snapped out of his thoughts, making sure the ladle was still stirring as he rose from his chair, and made his way to the Great Hall.

"What did you say your name was again?" Asked Ron confidently, hoping to make a new friend before the Sorting Ceremony.

"Oh..er...it's Harry. Harry Potter," Harry replied, wondering if Ron would recognise his name like all those wizards in Diagon Alley had.

"No Way!" Exclaimed Ron excitedly, answering Harry's question, "Can I see the...um..."

"See what?" Asked Harry with a smile.

"The...scar!" Whispered Ron as loud as a whisper can be. He watched in awe as Harry lifted his raven-coloured fringe to reveal a lightening shaped scar. Only a few days ago he still believed that he had got the scar in the same car crash that killed his parents. Now he understood it all, and he wasn't sure that he wanted to think about it just now. So, changing the subject, he asked:

"Your name's Ron, right?"

"What...oh..um, yeah. Ron Weasley," replied Ron distractedly, offering a hand shake once he had taken a proper look at the scar.

"It's nice to meet you, Ron." Harry said, not entirely sure what to say. He had never spoken to someone his age who didn't want to steal his lunch money or call him names. But just as the awkward silence was becoming unbearable, an over-filled and very colourful refreshments trolley wheeled into view.

The kind old woman who was wheeling the trolley asked the two children if they would like anything. Ron looked longingly at the mound of sweets and chocolates, but reluctantly declined, pulling out a pre-packed lunch of some rather squashed sandwiches. Harry, on the other hand, couldn't resist:

"I'd like a bit of everything, please," He said politely, taking out a hand-full of galleons and handing it to the trolley-lady, who was slightly taken aback by the larger-than-usual order.

Just as they had managed to load their carriage with food of all varieties, a girl with long, bushy and frizzy brown hair came shooting through the door.

"Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one," she explained with a business-like voice, as though she was already a prefect. When the boys' blank expressions told her they hadn't, she continued, "Oh, do you have anything spare to eat? I'm starving," and with that the girl plonked herself onto the sofa next to Ron and reached for pumpkin pasty. "I'm Hermione Granger, by the way...and you are?"

"Ron Weasley." Ron said proudly, scanning the bundle of food for something to go with his sandwiches.

"Pleasure...and you're Harry Potter!" Hermione exclaimed as she recognised Harry from one of the many books she had read about the wizarding world. "I'd heard you were going to be at Hogwarts this year! I know all about you, of course. Here...allow me," Hermione took out her wand, and with an expert flick of her wrist she said "Oculus Reparo", causing Harry's glasses to fix with a spark.

"Thanks Hermione," Said Harry quietly, still a little shocked by his level of fame in the wizarding world.

For a while all was silent as Hermione tucked in to her pasty, realising how hungry she was. And if it hadn't been for Ron thrusting out his hand (with the packet of Every Flavour Beans in it) in front of Harry's face, the silence may never have been broken.

"Take one if you like. But be careful. Red ones are usually safest," Ron explained, shaking the packet to show that there were still loads left. At first, Harry wasn't going to take one for he was so unused to being offered anything that he was too taken-aback to work out what Ron had said, despite the fact that technically he had paid for everything there. But after a few more seconds of packet-shaking, Harry accepted a bean, and indeed chose a red one in the hope that it would be strawberry, or perhaps raspberry flavoured.

"Urgh..." Harry spat out the bean almost instantly, as the burning sensation of red hot chilli swam around his tongue until his eyes began to water. "They mean every flavour!" He laughed, and the other two laughed with him.

Harry tried a chocolate frog next. He ripped open the golden and blue packaging to reveal a very lively, smooth chocolate frog that jumped straight towards the open window as soon as it was free.

"Careful!" Said Ron, but too late, for the frog had already escaped, "That's rotten luck. Still...what card did you get?"

Harry looked down at his lap and located a hexagon shaped card amongst the packaging. It was an image of an old man with a long beard tucked into his robes, and twinkling half-moon spectacles. "I got Dumbledore!" Harry announced excitedly.

"Oh...I've got about 6 of him." Ron dismissed, tentatively trying another Bertie Bott's.

"If no one minds, I haven't got time to be swapping _cards. _I'm going to get changed. I expect we'll be arriving soon!" Declared Hermione suddenly, having finished her pasty. "It was nice to meet you both," and with that, she rose and left, leaving Ron rolling his eyes at Harry in disbelief.

"We've got hours yet! What was her problem?" He spoke rhetorically, smiling at Harry as he stared so intently at a common Chocolate frog card.

"Ron...?" Harry asked, unable to stop himself from asking questions even though he knew it was forbidden, "what else do you know about Hogwarts?"

Ron seemed thankful that Harry finally asked. "Well, there's Dumbledore – you already know about him. And then there's Professor McGongall, she's Deputy Head and head of Gryffindor. Gryffindor is one of four houses at Hogwarts. Then there's Hufflepuff, Professor Sprout, the herbology professor, is the head. Then Professor Flitwick, he's the head of house for Ravenclaw...they're all really smart. And finally Slytherin...there's not a wizard or witch that's gone bad that wasn't in Slytherin. The head of Slytherin an evil old bat according to my brothers, Professor Snape. He teaches potions and apparently he always favours students from his own house."

Harry had been smiling up until the mention of Professor Snape, who certainly didn't seem as nice as the other wizards and witches he'd met so far. He thought back to his old school, and how the teachers there had always been nice to him when he did well in class. Thinking that it wouldn't hurt to at least try getting a head start in Potions so as to stay in this Snape's good books, Harry finished off his lunch and got out his new copy of Magical Drafts and Potions when he went to get his school robes to change. And with an hour and a half yet, he began to read, and even got Ron to test him on a few key points.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi :)**

**Just in case anyone recognises it, this chapter contains a sorting hat song I wrote in another fan fiction, which I have since deleted ;) It's not to JK's standard I know...but it was fun to write!**

**Hope you enjoy the chapter...any feedback/reviews would be great as always :D**

**Merci ****Gloubi Boulga – Je suis content que vous avez aimé le début! (was that correct?)**

**Just to clarify...Hagrid drops Harry off at Kings Cross in both the books and the films ;) But I left out the whole Diagon Alley/Harry getting ready part which happens in August, because it would have meant practically re-writing the original :)**

**Thanks so much for the reviews!**

**Disclaimer: Of course, I didn't invent the Wizarding World...it all belongs to the amazing Jo Rowling :P **

Chapter 3 – Draco, Snape and the Sorting Hat.

By the time the Hogwarts Express came to a stop, Harry was standing ready by the door with trunk in hand and robes flowing behind him. Almost as soon as the train stopped the doors opened, and Harry was met with a discomfortingly loud and disorderly platform, which very soon became filled with students of all heights and ages. He made sure that Ron was following, before stepping into the crowd and trying to work out where he should go.

"First years, this way," Hagrid was calling out, and quickly the giant was surrounded by a crowd of small, excited looking children – albeit a little intimidated. Harry was a little apprehensive of the other first years, but was glad to see that they were just as nervous as he was.

Being so used to being bullied and tormented by Dudley and his gang, Harry knew it was too good to be true that _every _witch and wizard would be kind to him. In fact, he actually felt a little better when a thin, blonde boy emerged from the excitable crowd of first years and came swaggering over to him and Ron. At least this was something normal.

"So it's true...perfect Potter has come to Hogwarts!" Spat Draco, snarling his lips up at Harry. Amongst the crowd, whispers of Harry's name shot across the Hogsmeade platform and soon everyone was trying to catch a glimpse of the famous Boy Who Lived. "And you..." Draco looked at Ron, "ginger hair, and a hand-me-down robe? You must be a Weasley," Draco said the name 'Weasley' as though it left a bad taste in his mouth, and Harry could see that this boy was evidently not someone he wanted to make friends with. "I'm Draco Malfoy. You see Potter, you'll soon find that some wizarding families are better than others...if you want, I can help you steer clear of the...wrong sort."

Harry felt the same anger he had felt for 10 years having lived with Dudley. Every day he would have to endure the name-calling and teasing. But for Ron, who had grown up in a loving family full of siblings who got on with each other, Harry could tell this was a completely new experience. Shy as he was, he knew he would have to stand up to Draco, for Ron's sake:

"I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks," He replied coldly, declining Draco's handshake and making his way towards a boat with Hermione and the boy named Neville, Ron beaming as he followed behind.

It was apparently customary for first years to arrive at the castle by boat. Harry had never been on a boat before, and didn't like to admit that he was a little nervous. The Dursleys had taken Dudley on a sailing trip once, but Harry had been made to stay behind with the bags and coats. He remembered back to when Dudley and Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had all laughed at him from their boat in the middle of the water, and he had been so unhappy he had imaged them capsizing and falling into the water. Little knowing that he was about to cause that to happen through magic. It all made sense now. Harry even allowed himself to smile at the memory. Then he began to think about what had happened after: Being shouted at, and beaten, and locked in his cupboard, because he was a freak and that's what he deserved. He began to get suddenly worried.

_What if I'm the only one who can't control my magic? What if I make bad things happen at Hogwarts and then all the teachers will punish me? I always ruin everything. _

"What's the matter, Harry?" Hermione asked, noticing that Harry had gone a pale colour.

"Just a bit sea-sick," Harry lied, staring down at the water for the rest of the journey to avoid having to talk to anyone.

It wasn't until he saw the reflection of the great castle in the water that Harry thought to look up. When he did, he was confronted with the most magnificent building he had ever seen: towers at every angle, with high turrets and a spectacular front door.

Climbing back out of the boat, it was all Harry could do to simply stare up at the school before him. Hagrid swung his arms towards the great door, and they split apart to reveal an ornate, beautiful room. The first years all gathered into the room, and were buzzing with conversation and excitement. Until the doors were shut once again and Hagrid left; as a mysterious old lady in dark green robes and a flopping witch's hat revealed herself from a dark corner, everything went silent.

For a while, the children stood listening to Professor McGonagall, who spoke to them about the house system of Hogwarts; about each individual house, and how the children may win or lose house points accordingly. Harry listened avidly, and did not once let his attention slip. Finally, McGonagall turned and waited for the grand doors to open.

The doors revealed the most spectacular hall that Harry had ever seen. Four long tables, each next to their own individual house flag and hour glass, lined the hall. At the end was the teachers' table, with Professor Dumbledore stood in the centre of the table behind a golden stand with a phoenix carved into the top. The ceiling had been bewitched to mimic the weather outside, which was currently pitch black but for a large collection of tiny stars. Very few clouds littered the sky, and Harry looked up in awe at the clarity of each of the star constellations that were visible. Candles floated here and there, lighting up the hall splendidly. Harry noticed that there was no electricity in the whole school, but instead the entire building was lit by candle-light. He wondered how it managed to be so bright, before reminding himself that of course in this world, it was hardly impossible. He would have to get used to that.

The Transfiguration Professor led the first years to stand in front of a little stool, on which stood a rather battered looking old hat with a rip at the front.

"Before we begin, Professor Dumbledore would like to make some announcements," McGonagall addressed the entire hall, gesturing for the headmaster to begin.

"The very best of evenings to you! To our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you," Professor Dumbledore's eyes twinkled severely as he beamed at his school, "Now...Sing, Sorting Hat, Sing! Thank you"

Harry wondered why the headmaster had given such a short speech, and why he was smiling so euphorically. But he didn't mind. In fact, it was rather contagious, for he found himself smiling straight back at him, and waiting with curiosity for the hat to sing. Accordingly, the hat ripped open to reveal a mouth shape, and took a deep breath:

_I may look old and dishevelled_

_But oh! The things I've seen_

_I've been here from the very start_

_On many heads I've been_

_I remember brave Gryffindor _

_Who wanted students bold _

_For only in Gryffindor could _

_Courageousness unfold _

_And then good natured Hufflepuff _

_For her the loyal shone through _

_As only students fair of heart _

_Were just in Helga's view _

_And next there came smart Ravenclaw _

_For her wit was the key _

_Students with great intelligence _

_In Rowena's house shall be _

_And last but not least Slytherin_

_Only the great would find_

_Their right place in Salazar's house_

_For those with cunning minds_

_So try me on and do not fear,_

_I'll find what house you're for_

_I'm the one and only Sorting Hat_

_And trust me, I see all_

"When I call your name, you will come up to the front; I will place the hat upon your head, and you will be sorted into your houses," McGonagall explained as though she had said it a thousand times, "Abbott, Hannah"

Harry watched intently as the girl walked slowly up to the sorting hat and placed it on her head.

"Hmmm...I see. Well, alright...HUFFLEPUFF" Cried the hat, apparently very pleased with its decision. The girl smiled, looking most relieved, and hurried over to the Hufflepuff table, which was alive with cheers and applause.

"Ron," Harry whispered, "Is that true? Does the hat really 'see all'?"

"I suppose...but I wouldn't worry about it," answered Ron, not noticing the scared look on Harry's face.

Before he knew it, it was Harry's turn. As McGonagall called his name, the entire hall fell silent and all eyes were on him. He walked slowly and timidly up to the stall and placed the over-sized hat on his head, allowing it to flop past his eyes.

From his chair at the Professors' table, Snape rolled his eyes at the mention of Perfect Potter.

_Harry bloody Potter...I'll bet he's so spoilt. The Boy Who Lived. Urgh...I bet he's just like his father. Imagine what the fame will have done to the boy, knowing all his life that he is famous. It's probably made him even more insufferable than his idiot father. I bet he's been waited on hand and foot since the day he was born, the brat..._

_ Wait! What's this? He seems so scruffy and scrawny. Surely this can't be Perfect Harry bloody Potter? Ha! Perhaps the little brat isn't as Perfect as everyone thinks..._

Snape thought snidely, ignoring the slight feeling in the back of his mind that perhaps Harry wasn't the over-confident, spoilt brat that he had assumed he would be.

Harry sat on the stool and closed his eyes, willing the hat to be kind.

"Hmmm...difficult, very difficult. There's courage I see, yes...and a thirst to prove yourself. But where to put you...?" The hat thought aloud in a curious voice. Everyone waited with baited breath.

"Not Slytherin...please not slytherin," whispered Harry, hoping that no one could hear.

"Not Slytherin, eh?" Shouted the hat most insensitively.

_Of course, Golden Potter would be far too above a house like Slytherin... _thought Snape sarcastically, reminding himself of his own Sorting Ceremony, when Lily had been so pleased to get into Gryffindor.

"Very well...better be, GRYFFINDOR!" The entire school erupted in applause as Harry happily went to join the Gryffindor table, alongside the Weasleys, and Hermione and Neville. Snape could barely contain his resentment towards Potter and all the stupid lions. _They think they're so brave and perfect, _he thought stubbornly, feeling as he did when he was just a boy.

As the evening went on and the feast began, Snape fumed about Potter and couldn't stop himself from reminiscing about James and Sirius and Remus. _Padfoot! What sort of a stupid name is that? And 'snivellus'...how could I forget being called that for 5 whole years...Lily hated it when they called me that..._

At that moment, Snape saw Harry look up at Professor Quirrell, who was staring avidly back at the boy with a strange expression on his face. In that moment, Severus noticed Harry wince in pain, and his hand shot up to his scar, which was apparently hurting him. Remembering his promise to Dumbledore that he would look out for the boy, Snape continued to watch as Quirrell stared at Harry, and a strange feeling of concern swept across his thoughts for a brief second.

_If Quirrell thinks he's going to cause any pain for Lily's son then he has another thing coming!_

_ Wait a second...I don't actually care about the boy, do I? No...don't be stupid Snape. I am merely keeping my promise..._

Harry noticed Quirrell, remembering him from Diagon Alley. He looked straight into the DADA professor's eyes, and somehow just knew that looking at him had caused his scar to hurt. Next to Quirrell, Harry noticed a professor with thin, greasy black hair and black robes, eyeing Quirrell with concern.

"Percy...who is that teacher sitting next to Professor Quirrell?" Harry asked, trying to sound off-hand,

"Oh...that's Professor Snape. He's Potions Master...an evil old bat if you ask me..."

"Oh yeah...Ron said..." said Harry, confused. Everyone was saying how 'evil' Snape was, but Harry was sure that Quirrell was the one that caused his scar to hurt. And moreover, it looked as though Snape was actually _concerned _about him. Surely he couldn't be as bad as everyone said he was?

When Harry had eaten so much that he swore he would never eat again, the tables were momentarily cleared, only to be filled once again with a whole new course of dessert. There were blocks of assorted ice cream, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, jelly, and rice pudding. Finding room somewhere, Harry managed a serving of trifle, before finally pushing his plate away and washing everything down with some pumpkin juice.

Eventually, everyone had finished. The tables were cleared, and Dumbledore stood yet again to speak to his school for the last time that evening:

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song! Everyone pick their favourite tune and off we go!" He flicked out a ribbon, which floated in the air creating the lyrics of the song for the students to sing along to. He then took out his wand, and tapped it on the golden stand, counting the children in:

_Hogwarts__, __Hogwarts__, Hoggy Warty __Hogwarts__,  
Teach us something, please,  
Whether we be old and bald  
Or young with scabby knees,  
Our heads could do with filling  
With some interesting stuff,  
For now they're bare and full of air,  
Dead flies and bits of fluff,  
So teach us things worth knowing,  
Bring back what we've forgot,  
Just do your best, we'll do the rest,  
And learn until our brains all rot. _

Harry enjoyed the anonymity of being able to sing without anyone listening directly to him. He and Ron chose the tune of 'She loves you' by the Beatles, and sung to each other, giggling every now and then at the absurdity of the situation. In time, everyone finished, and as the last few students sang out – obviously enjoying performing in front of the school – Dumbledore laughed kindly and got rid of the floating ribbon.

"And now to bed, Goodnight everyone! First years, follow your house's prefects to your dorms. Get a good night's rest and be bright for lessons tomorrow!" Dumbledore spoke kindly to the first years, all of whom looked most annoyed at the thought of going to bed when they'd much rather explore the castle.

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	4. Chapter 4

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**This chapter gets a little sweet towards the end...sorry!**

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**I feel like I should explain: the month between chapter 1 and 2 did happen, I just didn't write it as Snape wouldn't have featured so it would have just been like copying the original. Sorry for not making that clear...:P**

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Chapter 4 – The Postions Master

Harry awoke with a smile radiating from his face. For the first time he could remember, he had had a good night's sleep. He had been so full of food, and the beds were so comfortable, and he had a whole dormitory instead of a cupboard. And moreover, he didn't have to get up and make breakfast, or clean the dishes or do any chores that his Aunt Petunia made him do.

It was with this happy realisation that Harry made his way to the bathrooms to get ready, before joining Ron down in the common room. The Gryffindor common room was like the cosiest and warmest living room Harry could imagine. It was a circular room located in the Gryffindor Tower, with red and gold wallpaper and a roaring fireplace. Deep, comfortable armchairs were dotted around the room, with circular coffee tables and a desk upon which students could finish homework assignments. A bulletin board was placed on one of the walls, with adverts and notices announcing upcoming Quidditch matches and other school activities. The other walls were decorated with scarlet tapestries and ornate paintings, all depicting famous witches and wizards, who spoke and cried out to other paintings as though it was the most normal thing in the world. Harry couldn't stop smiling as he took everything in.

"Come on...let's not be late for breakfast," Smiled Ron as he too admired the common room, "McGonagall's going to be handing out our timetables!"

The two boys hurried along to the Great Hall, trying to remember the directions from the evening before. When they arrived, Harry was surprised to see the tables once again laden with all kinds of food. He and Ron found a couple of seats on the Gryffindor table and sat down to eat, grabbing as much bacon and egg and beans as they could fit on their plate. Harry was still completely unused to helping himself to food in such a way, and tried to shake off the feeling of guilt he felt when taking his first mouthful.

It wasn't long after they'd started eating that Professor McGonagall handed them a timetable each. She was wearing the same dark green robes, and a dark green cloak that was tied around her collar in a neat bow.

"Mr Potter; Mr Weasley. Your timetables," She said matter-of-factly, handing them the parchment, before looking up at the great clock that hung on one of the Great Hall walls, "I trust you won't be late to your first lesson?" And with that, she walked briskly off.

Ron looked puzzled, before noting the time on his parchment, which stated that lessons were about to start in no less than 3 minutes. "Damn." He exclaimed. "Oh, bloody hell!" He exclaimed again, having noticed that his first lesson was Potions. Harry looked at his timetable, and seeing that he and Ron had the same lessons, decided that it was no good sitting around and waiting to be punished. He knew too well the penalty for being late, and wasn't about to anger this infamous Potions Master.

"Come on then will you!" He said, grabbing Ron by his robes and pulling him out of the Great Hall before either of them had finished their breakfast. They ran along the corridor and hurried down the marble staircase into the dungeons as though their lives depended on it.

The potions classroom was a relatively small, oval sized room with dark corners and bottles filled with different coloured liquids upon shelves that covered every wall. It smelt strongly of a mixture of different potions; some sweet, some rather horrible. By the time they arrived, most of the boys' classmates were already seated on long wooden benches that separated two houses: Gryffindor and Slytherin.

"We...made...it!" Ron announced triumphantly between breaths as he slumped into a chair. All the other seats had been taken, leaving Ron and Harry to join Hermione on the front row. Harry said nothing, but was careful to catch his breath and flatten his hair as best he could so that he didn't look too dishevelled for his first lesson.

"Bit tired are we, Weasel?" Sneered Draco from his seat on the other side of the room. He already _seemed_ to have befriended all of the first year Slytherins, who laughed along with him. Ron turned a deep shade of red and turned away from them, muttering something under his breath. Harry, remembering the day before when he had stood up to Draco, was about to retort, but was cut short as Professor Snape suddenly swept through the doors.

"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class. You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses...However, for those select few... Who possess, the predisposition...I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper in death — if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as the last lot of first years, that is." Snape entered the room, speaking coldly as he walked up to the front. At those words, Harry's heart skipped at the thought of being a 'dunderhead', glad that he had taken time to revise the subject before hand. Severus relished in how effective his little speech had become. Over the years, he had perfected every word, and knew just how to strike fear into the first years. Even Potter, it seemed.

"Ah, Mr Potter...so _delightful _to meet you at last," Snape sneered sarcastically. Draco and many other Slytherins couldn't help but laugh as they saw Harry's sorry expression. "Let us see if you are as brilliant as everyone has been saying," Snape continued, ignoring Malfoy, "Tell me, what will I get if I add Powdered Root of Asphodel to an infusion of Wormwood?"

Harry thought about it for a second, trying to remember what he'd learnt on the Hogwarts Express, "Um...that's how you make The Draught of Living Death, sir. It's called that because it's a very strong sleeping potion."

Snape, hiding his surprise at the boy actually getting it right, tried a harder question, "Very well. Tell me, where would you look if I told you to find me a Bezoar?"

This time Harry didn't have to think for very long, for it was one of the questions Ron had tested him on, "From the stomach of a goat, sir."

At this, Snape couldn't help but look slightly impressed at Harry's knowledge. For a muggle-raised first year, it was certainly surprising. "Correct," Snape said reluctantly, "Well, do you know the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?" _He'll never get this one...the spoilt brat...he has to be right about everything, just like his father._

"Sir...I think they are the same plant..." Harry said, confused as to why his professor was trying to catch him out deliberately.

Snape could barely contain his shock at the boy's evident talent for potions. It reminded him of when he was a boy, when his classmates would all be getting the potions wrong, and only he and Lily would ever be able to answer questions correctly. _Lily was always so good at potion-making..._

Deciding not to taunt the boy further, for he had obviously worked hard to revise before class, Snape said "Good" as though the word had scarcely ever passed through his lips, and continued to address the class.

Harry sat, listening intently to the Potions Master and thinking about what had just happened. _He said 'good'. No one has ever told me I was good before. _Harry thought happily, wondering why everyone thought that Snape was so bad.

As he finished talking, and his class got into pairs to start brewing their first potion, Severus sat back at his desk and tried to get on with labelling some more of the tiny viles filled with potions. No matter how much he tried to distract himself, he couldn't shake off the feeling that perhaps he had been wrong about The Boy Who Lived...it somehow seemed that Potter wasn't quite as over-confident and insensitive as he had assumed. _After all, the boy answered 3 difficult questions correctly first time, and hasn't once shown-off to the class. _

_ Still, the brat evidently has no respect for my class-room- _Snape thought suddenly as he heard a crash coming from the front row. It seemed that Potter and Weasley had together managed to explode their entire cauldron.

From where Harry was standing, simmering liquid oozed out of the pewter cauldron, which was cracked into many little pieces on the floor. Harry's eyes glistened with a layer of tears, although he was careful not to show anyone by covering his face with his unkempt fringe. From the other side of the room, Malfoy was struggling to contain his laughter as he subtly put his wand back in his robes, hoping that no-one saw it was him who deliberately exploded perfect Potter's cauldron. Ron couldn't understand what had happened; his face went a dangerous shade of red and together the boys just stared at the mess before them without saying a word.

"Hmm...it seems fame isn't everything, is it Mr Potter?" Snape sneered rhetorically, clearing the mess with a single wave of his wand, and restoring the pewter cauldron back to its original, empty form. He waited for a retort that he was used to from Gryffindors, but none came. Instead, as he looked further at Harry he noticed the boy sniffling in a struggle not to cry. Eyes flashing swiftly, Severus scanned the room, noticing Malfoy laughing with a very satisfied expression on his pale face.

"Mr Malfoy. 10 points from Slytherin for such childish behaviour," He said dryly, allowing his lips to curl.

"But sir-" Malfoy protested, shocked that he hadn't got away with his trick.

"Is there a problem, Mr Malfoy? You did jinx Mr Potter's cauldron, did you not?" Snape asked, already knowing the answer. Malfoy's silence merely confirmed that he was right in his assumption, and as no one else dared speak he decided that it was time for the lesson to finish.

Just as everyone was clearing up their desks – those with successful attempts bringing their potions to the front in little bottles – Snape remembered his promise to Dumbledore, and called out "Mr Potter, stay behind."

Harry's heart was racing at the Potion Master's words. _I'm in trouble. My first ever lesson at Hogwarts and I had to get in trouble, just like usual. Why can't I do anything right, ever? _Harry watched as the other children left, noting Ron's apologetic smile as he crept slowly and quietly up to Professor Snape's desk.

"P-professor Snape?"

Snape rolled his eyes at the boys nerves, secretly liking that effect he had on first years. He allowed the boy to think he was in trouble for a few seconds more, before reminding himself what he actually needed to talk to the boy about.

"Mr Potter. I wanted to ask you about what happened at the Sorting Ceremony, when you appeared to be in pain. Did you have a head-ache?" He began, knowing that it had been more than just a head-ache.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, before tentatively answering the man, "No sir...not a head-ache exactly. It was...um..."

"Potter? I would appreciate it if you addressed me in a straight-up manner, instead of 'umming' and 'ahing' like a little child." Snape warned snidely.

"WhenIlookedatProfessorQuirrellmyscarreallyhurtandIdon'tknowwhy..." Harry explained, so fast and quiet that Snape could barely understand. If it had been any other child, Snape may have corrected the boy, and maybe even given him a 'lesson' or two on the benefit of correct enunciation, but something stopped him. As Harry's eyes filled with a layer of tears once more, he looked up at the Potions Master, and in that second, Snape looked back into those frightened emerald eyes. The boy looked so much like his father – the idiot golden lion who thought he was so perfect – but his eyes: pure and innocent...looked just like Lily's.

_Why don't you just admit that you were wrong about the boy? Oh, shut up Snape...anyway, Dumbledore should know about this. Never-mind what his eyes look like. Oh Lily, how could I even think of hating your son? Come on Snape...don't be so stupid. _

Snape's thoughts swam around his head as though he was two different people, and all he could do was look into Harry's emerald green eyes. "Mr Potter. Thank you for telling me that. Don't worry about Professor Quirrell any more. You may go now." Snape said quietly. He watched as the frightened little boy left the dungeons and hurried off down the corridor to find his classmates.

No matter how much he resented that stupid Boy Who Lived and his equally stupid father, he knew that deep down, he loved Lily, and as such, he had to care for Harry Potter. 

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	5. Chapter 5

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Chapter 5 – Snape's Promise

Dumbledore sat in his eccentric office, eyes twinkling and lips smiling most contentedly as he peered through his half-moon spectacles at the man who had just entered the room.

"Severus, my dear man! To what do I owe this wonderful pleasure?" He greeted jovially, choosing to ignore the look on Severus Snape's face, "Lemon sherbet?"

"No thank you, Albus." Sighed Snape, tired of refusing this muggle sweet that the headmaster was so fixated upon. "I wanted to talk to you about...Potter," Snape said, unsure how to begin.

"My dear man," Albus said again, still smiling, "Is there something amiss?"

"Albus, this is difficult. I am not making any accusations here. All I know is that the Potter boy's scar began to hurt during the Sorting Ceremony Feast. And I happened to observe that...Quirinus may have provoked Potter's pain." Snape finished speaking, and waited for Dumbledore to react. He had no idea what to make of recent affairs, but all he knew was that a strange feeling of concern was currently residing in his mind and until he had this issue sorted he wasn't going to rest. Apart from anything else, he was highly unused to this feeling of care towards a child, and he was sure he didn't like how confused it was making him.

Dumbledore took in Snape's words carefully, and considered what was being said with great interest and concern. He had his suspicions, and knew more than he thought about _why _the scar hurt occasionally. But as for Quirrell's level of involvement, Albus decided that he better not leap to any conclusions. Although, Dumbledore was also intrigued by something else. Here was Severus Snape – the evil old bat of the dungeons – apparently caring about Harry Potter. Of course, he called him "the Potter boy", and spoke about Harry more like he was an object than a child, but Albus knew well that these were just Snape's natural defences. Dumbledore had seen Severus fight against his own mind ever since he was a student at Hogwarts; he had pretended that his father hadn't hurt him; he had pretended that he wasn't upset when James and his friends called him "snivellus"; and now here he was pretending that he didn't care about Lily's child.

Dumbledore's eyes continued to twinkle, and with an endearing smile he said, "Severus, thank you very much for letting me know. It may well be that this happens again. In which case young Harry needs to know he can tell someone."

"I agree, Albus. If that boy thinks he can deal with this on his own then he is very much mistaken," Snape said coldly, remembering how James Potter always seemed to think he could handle situations just as well as some of the most established witches and wizards in the country.

"Well, quite," Albus said, laughing off Snape's disapproval of the Gryffindor fearlessness, "Perhaps I should inform Minerva of all this, you know how much she cares for the young boy, particularly when she heard that he hadn't received the first letter we sent."

Snape thought about this slowly, feeling that somehow Albus was up to something. The old man's eyes were twinkling so severely that Snape could barely make eye contact with him, and his half-moon spectacles were even further down his nose than usual.

"Well, Albus...that would be a good idea, I should imagine," Decided Snape as though the matter was of little importance to him. In truth, he wasn't entirely sure that he wanted McGonagall to be the one to look after Harry.

"You seem a little hesitant, Severus...do tell me what you're thinking..." Dumbledore said kindly, knowing just what the young Potions Master was hesitant about.

_Why can't I just be happy...this is what I wanted, isn't it? The boy could be out of my hands and I won't ever have to suffer over that idiot Potter again. I'll still keep an eye on him, for Lily's sake...but would she want me to do more? Oh Snape...you can't seriously be thinking of looker after Harry bloody Potter...can you?_

"It's just that, well...Minerva is so busy with the new first years, and what with the stone being here at Hogwarts. I fear she may not have the time – what would happen if the boy needed to speak to her and she wasn't available? He would try to deal with things himself and then-"

"Severus, you are quite right, of course..." Albus interjected, cutting off Snape's pitiable attempt at pretending he only cared for Minerva's sake, "Well, then. I have little choice but to ask you to-"

"Albus! You can't possibly be suggesting that I be the one that boy is to confide in? I mean, for a start I am head of Slytherin, and the boy is the most insufferable brat I've ever-"

Dumbledore watched Snape protest and tried not to smile, knowing that he had already succeeded. "Ah, Severus...if that's how you feel then perhaps Minerva would be _too _busy."

"No, no. You've obviously made your mind up now, Albus," Snape replied quickly, surprising himself, "I'll go and tell the boy now, I suppose," He exclaimed in an exasperated tone, pretending to be deeply annoyed that Dumbledore had yet again subjected him to helping Harry Potter.

In truth, Snape was beginning to think that looking out for the boy wasn't such a bad idea.

_Can you hear yourself, Snape? Of course this is a bad idea...what happened to all those years with the Marauders, or have you forgotten? I am doing this for Lily, not for him...besides, he seems so much more like his mother than his father..._

Harry approached the Fat Lady with a smile on his face, having finished lessons for the day. He knew with absolute certainty that this had been the best day he could remember. Ron and Hermione followed behind, bickering about who had been the best at Transfiguration. Harry knew it was Hermione, but chose not to get involved. Instead, he waved happily to the Fat Lady and said "Caput Draconis" when the password was requested.

"In you go!" The Fat Lady beamed and swung open, allowing the three to enter the common room. Hermione went straight to the desk to get out some parchment, and began the Charms essay they had been given that afternoon. Deciding against homework straight after lessons, Harry and Ron chose two comfy looking armchairs, and Ron began to teach Harry all about Quidditch. He told him all the basics, including the names of each player, the balls, and the general rules of play. He also explained all about the Chudley Cannons and how they were by far the best team, even if they hadn't actually won the League since 1892.

Just as Ron was excitedly explaining all about the Chudley's seeker Galvin Gudgeon, a snowy white owl came flying through the open window to land straight on the boy's vivid ginger hair, pecking away at his head from the moment she landed.

"Hey...gerrof!" Ron grumbled as he shoved the bird off his hair and attempted to straighten out his fringe.

"Hedwig!" Harry scolded between laughs, feeling very thankful that he wasn't back at the Dursley's house, and Hedwig hadn't just landed in their precious Dudley's hair. Hedwig fluttered her large, white wings and came to perch on the arm of Harry's chair, lifting her leg out politely to hand him a letter. "Thanks," He muttered absently, already reading the little scroll that he had just received. Realising that she wasn't going to be paid by Harry, Hedwig flapped her wings once more and returned to her position on Ron's head, pecking at his burning red ears until he reached into his robe pockets and produced a couple of Knuts.

Harry read and re-read the scroll with a weak smile on his face.

_Mr Potter,_

_ Come to my office at 5 o'clock, I wish to speak to you._

_ Do not worry, you will not be in trouble...unless you are late that is._

_ Professor Snape._

Harry couldn't believe that for the first time in his life – as far as he could remember – an adult actually wanted to speak to him. He wasn't in trouble, and it meant that Professor Snape really was concerned about his scar hurting. _Oh Harry...you're be stupid as usual...the professor probably just needs some chores doing. Why would anyone care about a freak like me? _

"You all right, mate?" Asked Ron, who had noticed that Harry had turned rather quiet.

"What? Oh...yeah, fine...I have to go to Professor Dumbledore's office, that's all..." Harry lied, not wanting to listen to another round of how Snape is an evil old bat of the dungeons. Ron nodded unquestioningly, knowing that Dumbledore was bound to want to talk to Harry Potter now that he was at Hogwarts.

Harry knew that he still had plenty of time to get to the dungeons, but he somehow didn't feel like waiting around in the common room much longer. So, with 20 minutes until 5 o'clock, he decided to leave Ron and started walking in search of Snape's office, talking to the paintings as he went.

Having been there once already, it wasn't long before Harry found the dungeons. As he stepped onto the cold stone floor the smell of potions instantly hit him. He breathed in, and smiled at the familiar smells to those he had noted during his first lesson. He walked along the corridor searching for an office that looked like it might belong to the potions master.

All of a sudden, when Harry was about half way along the stone passage, he heard a blood curdling laugh that made his entire spine shiver. He felt instantly terrified and tried to find a place to hide, only to see that the walls were bare and the corridor seemed to continue almost endlessly in every direction. As far as he could tell, he was trapped – and he didn't even know what he was trying to hide from yet. He was reminded of a time back in Privet Drive, when Dudley and his gang had cornered him by a bus stop and were kicking at him from every angle because Arabella Figg had given him some sweets.

All too soon, Harry saw the silvery figure emerge from nowhere, still laughing, and wielding a long, silver sword across his face. If he hadn't been so taken-aback then he would have recognised him from Hogwarts: A History as the Bloody Baron, but he was far too scared to notice. Ghosts, in his muggle-raised mind, were still the stuff of Halloween horror stories, and to be confronted by one in the middle of a castle dungeon was just a little too much. Acting purely on instinct, Harry curled up into a ball making himself as small as possible, just like he had learned to do with the Dursleys.

The Bloody Baron almost rolled his eyes as he realised how easy it had been to frighten the Gryffindor. He enjoyed scaring first years as much as the next ghost, but it really wasn't fun if they were going to give in that easily. Sighing, he thought he would at least get the most out of it; he took a deep breath and roared with evil laughter, calling upon every Slytherin instinct he had.

Snape, who had been in his office just going over his lesson plan for the next 2 days, heard all. He was quite used to the Baron's pathetic attempts at scaring the children, but wasn't so used to hearing the children cry in fear back at him. His heart leapt most unusually when he realised that it must have been Harry. He swooped his robes across his body and stormed out into the open corridor, firing curses and jinxes towards the Slytherin Ghost, who recoiled as he saw the Professor. In less than a minute he had vanished into a wall, and Harry was left crouching in the middle of the passageway, ears burning in embarrassment.

"Mr Potter, I assure you that my office, contrary to popular misconception, is certainly more comfortable than a stone floor," Snape sneered, rather pleased that Gryffindor's Perfect Potter had been scared by a silly old ghost. Nevertheless, he didn't like the way the boy's eyes glistened so innocently when he was nervous, and he couldn't help but feel sorry for Harry as he slowly stood up and brushed off his dusty robes.

"Sorry, sir. I didn't mean to...will I be punished?" Harry asked sheepishly, knowing what usually came when his Uncle Vernon saw him all dusty and bruised after a fight with Dudley. However, much to Harry's surprise, Snape simply rolled his eyes incredulously at him and shook his head, using a sweep of his cloak to gesture for Harry to follow him into his office.

"Now, Mr Potter, take a seat," Harry did as he was told, "Professor Dumbledore and I have had a talk about what you informed me earlier today with regards to your scar hurting. He is of the opinion that it might be beneficial for you to have someone to talk to about these matters, and indeed about anything that is worrying or hurting you," Snape paused to ensure that the boy was keeping up. When Harry nodded to show his understanding, he continued, "The Headmaster has therefore decided that you are to come to me with any doubts or fears you have." Snape explained, with particular emphasis on the fact that this was purely Dumbledore's decision and not his own, "you are not to keep these matters to yourself, and under no circumstances are you to assume that you can deal with things on your own, do you understand?"

"Yes Professor Snape, sir," Harry said politely, grinning at the thought that he would actually have an adult to talk to and be cared for by.

_There...that wasn't too difficult now was it, Snape? What's that boy smiling at me for? Does he think I'm funny...I'm the head of Slytherin for Merlin's sake!_

"Mr Potter, kindly take that look off your face," Snape demanded sternly, not liking the insinuation that he now tolerated being laughed at. "Do you think this is funny?"

Harry's expression quickly changed to a look of crestfallen sadness. _Good one Harry. Like anyone would actually want to look after a freak, _Harry thought, instantly reminding himself of the hours he spent locked in his cupboard reprimanding himself for being abnormal and weird, just like his Aunt and Uncle said he was.

"No sir...I was just smiling because I've never had anyone to speak to before, I'm very sorry, Professor," Harry explained quietly, hoping that his apologies would lessen his punishment somewhat.

_Nice one Snape. Ruin yet another child's confidence as usual. What would Lily think? _Snape suddenly felt a feeling of regret as he saw Harry's eyes glisten once more.

"Don't be sorry Mr Potter. I just want to ensure that you are taking this seriously." Snape spoke as softly as he could bare to, highly unused to even this level of comforting words. At this, Harry lifted his head slightly and gave another weak smile.

"Thank you, sir," He said, shoving his round glasses back up his nose.

_That's not good enough...the boy needs to know I am here for him. Why is it so hard to just admit that I will look after the little brat..._

"Mr Potter...I want you to know that you can trust me...I promise..." Snape uttered, surprising himself with every word. Saying no more, he ushered Harry out of his office and turned back to his desk.

**Thanks for reading! Please review...**


	6. Chapter 6

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**Disclaimer: Just as last time, I do not own the Wizarding world. Snape and Harry, etc. all belong to the wonderful Jo Rowling :P**

Chapter 6 – Gryffindor's New Seeker

It was a warm September morning that saw the Gryffindor and Slytherin first years all lined up awaiting their first official flying lesson. Away from the quidditch pitch of course, Madam Hooch had laid out the old Clean Sweeps that first years trained on, and with a few blows of her whistle she ushered the children to gather around the brooms, allocating one broom per student until everyone was standing ready to receive her instructions.

This lesson had been much anticipated, particularly by those who had grown up in the muggle world and had therefore never experienced flying on a broom before. For Harry, it was something he'd wanted to do his whole life. Even as a small child, seeing Dudley on Roller Coasters had made Harry wonder what it felt like to be flying through the air with the wind in his face. He couldn't help but beam as he approached the old broomstick. As for Ron, he was looking forward to showing off a few moves he had learned from his older brothers.

To begin with, Madam Hooch instructed everyone to reach out their wand hand and say "up", waiting for the broom to fly into their hand. Much to Harry's surprise, the broom shot straight up and sat almost obediently in his palm. He noticed that most of his other classmates were having more difficulty, especially – he noted happily – Hermione, who was getting more and more angry with her broom that just refused to budge from the grass. Draco looked particularly smug as he was among the first of the Slytherins to be holding his broom. Harry didn't think it worth mentioning that he had managed before Malfoy or indeed any of the Slythrins; after all, he didn't want to ruin his chances of getting to fly later. Ron was trying every variation of the word "up" that he could think of, before finally the broom shot up and whacked him straight on the nose. His ears burnt red with embarrassment, and Harry couldn't help but smother a slight laugh.

"Oh, surrup Harry!" Ron said, laughing at himself to suppress his feeling of humiliation. Nevertheless, he was still one of the first to actually make the broom move at all. After a good few minutes, and a lot of frustrated shouts of "UP!", everyone finally had their brooms and the lesson could continue.

"Now, mount your broom," Madam Hooch ordered, waiting for everyone to do so, "good. Now, on the count of three, I will blow my whistle. When I do, you are to kick off from the ground, hover for a few seconds, and then lean forward and touch back down." She gave the instructions as though she had said them a thousand times before, and once she was sure everyone knew what to do she blew her whistle.

Harry kicked off the grown, and was shocked at how easy it was to hover a few feet above the ground on such a thin looking broom. It seemed that the others were having a little more difficulty, however; in fact, some people could barely stay on the broom at all. Still, Madam Hooch seemed generally pleased with her class' efforts.

Just as she told everyone to touch back down, Hooch heard a cry coming from the Gryffindor side of the group. It seemed that Neville Longbottom had lost control his broom, and instead of leaning forward to land, he was rising higher and higher into the hair.

"Mr Longbottom! You come back down this instant!" Madam Hooch cried, knowing that the boy was hardly ready to be flying at this stage. Neville continued to gain height, crying out as he went. He was obviously not accustom to flying on a broom, and was zigzagging through the air at an alarming speed, evidently without any control over his broomstick.

Eventually, after many cries for help and Madam Hooch's vain attempts at getting him to come down, Neville flew straight into a statue that was protruding sharply from the castle wall. The broom abandoned him at this point, flying back down to the ground and leaving Neville hanging from his robes, which had got caught on the statue's sword.

Everyone watched with a gasp as the material of Neville's robes slowly gave way, and he began to fall.

"Arresto Momentum!" Madam Hooch cried out in the second before Neville hit the ground. She was just in time to prevent any serious injuries, but as the flying teacher approached the boy it was clear that he had broken his wrist in the fall. "Oh dear...I think we better go to the hospital wing. Come on now..." Madam Hooch said, cradling Neville's limp wrist as they walked off into the castle.

Severus Snape was in the dungeons, assessing his stock of potions ingredients and trying to find enough Hellebore plant for The Draught of Peace that was currently brewing in his cauldron. Eventually concluding that his Fifth Years had managed to use up his entire stock of the plant on the very first day (_not surprising given their evident lack of any skill in the art of potion making..._), he sighed to himself and began making his way out of the dungeons towards the greenhouses, where he hoped Professor Sprout had enough growing.

As he stepped out of the castle and onto the grass, Severus became aware of an inordinate amount of laughter and jeering coming from a group of first years. On closer inspection, he realised that the class had been left unattended, and that the children's unruly behaviour was a result of a complete lack of discipline.

"Give it hear, Malfoy!" Harry Potter shouted, as Malfoy rose off the ground carrying poor Neville's remembrall. The pale blonde boy spat at the ground, rising higher and higher into the sky - most expertly for a first year. Taunting Harry and egging him on to follow, Malfoy through the remembrall up and down, catching it with skill.

Snape watched in disbelief as Harry mounted his own Clean Sweep and began to rise into the air. He would have been instantly cross had he not been somewhat shocked at the level of skill the Gryffindor boy was displaying. Alright, he shook a little and still had to use both hands, but for a first time flying the boy was certainly a natural.

Harry tried to ignore Hermione's pleas for him to come down before a teacher noticed, and soared further and further until he was level with Draco. His heart was racing, not from fear of heights – he was actually quite enjoying being above the ground – but because he knew he was breaking the rules. Madam Hooch had strictly instructed that _no one _was to leave the ground while she was gone. Harry didn't want to break the rules. He knew all too well what came from that. But something inside him just couldn't let Malfoy bully Neville...especially while he was helpless in the hospital wing.

_I just want to help Neville. I'm not being bad...Wait?! What's Malfoy doing now?_

"Perhaps I'll leave it on the roof for Longbottom to find..." Malfoy announced menacingly, before hurling the remembrall across the sky. Forgetting everything, Harry darted with his broom towards the flying remembrall, identifying it against the cloudy sky with expert precision. It was flying fast towards a window belonging to Professor McGonagall, and Harry knew that if he didn't catch the ball soon then it would smash the window and possibly hurt the Professor. With this incentive, Harry flew even faster, picking up speed until his surroundings were just a blur – all he could see clearly was the ball in front of him, and his broomstick.

_For Merlin's sake...what is that brat doing now? He's risking his own life for a flying ball? Just like his good-for-nothing father. Look at him. He's thinks he's so bloody special just because he can fly a broom. I'll bet he loves the way his classmates are all cheering him on. Oh no...it's not good enough to defeat Voldemort and be named The Boy Who Lived. He has to be a seeker in his first year as well! _

Snape seethed, reminded of the years he spent watching that golden lion James Potter catching the snitch in front of the whole school. _Perhaps he'll break his neck trying to do something stupid..._Snape considered, wondering if it would be such a bad thing. But at that moment, Harry flipped around and caught the ball with one hand, the other swinging his broomstick into a sharp turn to avoid smashing into the castle wall. Snape's heart practically skipped a beat as he saw the boy risking his life in such a way. _Oh...so now you care about the brat again? Make your mind up Snape! You are my mind...I mean, I am! I mean...oh never mind..._Snape battled with his thoughts, concerned that his anger seemed to have subsided to be replaced by a feeling of relief that Harry was still alive on his broom.

Realising that he had caught the remembrall, Harry decided to fly back down. He wanted to continue flying, of course, but he didn't want to risk being in trouble. He didn't celebrate his success, or say anything to Malfoy as he touched down and stowed the remembrall in his robes for safe keeping, until Neville was better.

All around him, Harry's Gryffindor classmates were cheering and applauding; especially Ron, who could barely contain his excitement that he had befriended what would surely be Gryffindor's new seeker. Not only that, but Harry had made a mockery of Draco Malfoy – and anyone who dares to do that must surely have been worthy of applause. Nevertheless, Harry remained modest, and actually tried to shake off the crowd of excited first years.

_I'm not brave...they don't understand. I was only helping Neville...and if I hadn't caught it then, Professor McGonagall would have been hurt. That's all. I'm not a hero...I'm just a freak..._

"Mr Potter...come with me..." Came the cold voice of Professor Snape from behind Harry's back. The group fell quiet, and Harry – although happy that the cheering had stopped – felt a sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach.

_Well done Harry...the one person who actually wanted to care for you and you mess it all up. Why am I so stupid?! _Harry reprimanded himself all the way to the dungeons, where Snape led him into his office and instructed Harry to sit down at his desk.

Silence filled the room for some time as Snape tried to think about what to say. On one hand, he was furious that the boy could be so reckless and foolish. On the other hand, he was so relieved that the boy was safe he somehow felt incapable of being too angry.

"Potter...you are a reckless fool," he began, deciding to deal with things one at a time., "Not only did you break school rules, you risked your life and could well have damaged school property. You are a fool," Snape reiterated, knowing how little these things tended to sink in to the lions.

"I know, sir..." Harry whispered. _The Professor is only concerned for my safety and here I am risking my life...I am a fool and a freak. _

At Harry's words, Snape was shocked. Never before had he told off a child, only to have the child agree with him. "Then why, Potter...did you do it?" Snape asked, trying to sound stern but accidentally allowing a tone of concern to enter his voice.

"It was Neville's remembrall, sir. I wanted to get it back for him because he broke his wrist and Malfoy stole it. And then it was about to fly through Professor McGonagall's window, so I had to catch it even though it was close to the castle wall. I'm very sorry, sir. I didn't mean to be reckless. I'm just a freak and I can't even follow simple rules..." Harry explained quietly, looking down at his shoes rather than at Snape. Severus considered what Harry had said, highly unused to hearing a student refer to themselves as a freak. Usually it was him dishing out the insults, not the child. What's more, the boy seemed to have a genuine explanation for his actions. He wasn't trying to show off or gain popularity.

"Mr Potter...never again do I want to see this reckless behaviour. Do I make myself clear?" Snape said slowly.

"Yes sir" was Harry's sincere reply. He continued to look down at the floor, awaiting his seemingly inevitable punishment. However, to his surprise it never came. Instead, Snape – in spite of himself – decided to address his second point.

"That's alright, Mr Potter. It was good of you to be concerned for your fellow classmates," _Really, Snape? You've gone soft..._ "I want you to know that you are not a freak. I just wanted to ensure that you do not risk your safety again."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief and couldn't help but allow his eyes to fill with a layer of tears as his Professor spoke. Not only did Snape want to be there for him, but he was also concerned about his safety. This proved nearly too much for Harry, who was blinking ferociously to hold back from crying.

_Oh, why does he do that? Those eyes...so like Lily's...and his concern for that Longbottom – Lily would be so proud of him..._

"Come now, Mr Potter, you're alright" Severus said by way of comforting the boy. It wasn't much, but from the evil old bat of the dungeons it was a first, "Now...you can't stay here all morning. I imagine Professor McGonagall will be wanting a word."

"Professor?" Harry questioned, wondering why McGonagall would want to talk to him.

"Well, Mr Potter, you say that you gave your...performance...outside Professor McGonagall's office. No doubt she will be looking to appointing her new seeker," Snape explained matter of factly, knowing how Minerva had been worried she would never find a decent seeker this term.

Harry gave a smile, and stood up from his chair.

"Thank you, Professor," he said politely, turning on his heels to leave.

_Why did the boy thank me? I didn't do anything for him..._

_ Yes you did, Snape...you cared about him..._

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	7. Chapter 7

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**Just a quick warning, this chapter gets a little fluffy towards the end...it was just too fun to write haha :P **

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**I haven't gone through and edited this chapter so much so there may be more mistakes than usual...sorry :P**

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Chapter 7 – Fear and Hugs

Harry, Ron and Hermione sat together on the second row of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, trying to decipher what Professor Quirrell was telling them through his stuttering and whimpering.

"He's pathetic, isn't he?" Hermione said in an exasperated tone, knowing that she could probably teach the class better than Quirrell. Ron nodded in agreement, taking his quill and making ink blots in the corner of his parchment. Harry gave a weak smile and nodded briefly. He couldn't help but feel scared of the DADA professor, despite the man's pitiable mannerisms.

The Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom was dimly lit, with a variety of different creatures hanging from the walls. Some were in cages, banging at the bars and screeching to be let out. Others were curled up against pieces of bark, snoozing in the warmth of the room. There was a platform at the front of the classroom for duelling and practising spells, although the first years had yet to use it. More noticeable than anything, however, was the overpowering stench of garlic that was coming from all over the classroom. Entire cloves of garlic hung from ever corner, and filled up the room. Even Quirrell himself seemed to stink of the stuff.

Quirrell seemed to teach the class as though he was oblivious to his students, which is why he didn't notice that hardly anyone was paying attention to him. After what seemed like an age, he came to a natural break in what he was saying, and Seamus took this chance to change the subject to something more interesting than how to correctly hold a wand during an official wizard's duel.

"Sir...what's with the garlic?" Seamus asked in a cocky voice, voicing what everyone had been secretly wondering.

"I-i-it's t-to ward of-f V-v-v-vampires...don't you know?" Quirrell replied nervously, "Haha...mm-met them in...R-romania. H—aaadd to...f-f-fight them off-f, you know..ehhh?"

Glad that he had finally managed to bring the lesson to something interesting, Seamus pressed on this point, much to the delight of his fellow classmates, who would have definitely had more respect for the professor if he had managed to fight off vampires.

"How did you fight it off, sir? Was it really dangerous?" Seamus questioned excitedly. Quirrell's eyes darted around the room uneasily; evidently the mention of his expedition to Romania had troubled him. Most assumed that it had brought back some uneasy memories, although Harry wondered if it might have been something else.

"N-never mind that...eehh F-Finnigan?" Quirrell said weakly, trying to smile off the situation.

"Yeah...leave the poor professor alone!" Cried out Susan Bones, who had suddenly gained a little more respect for Quirrell, "Would you want to talk about how you nearly died defeating a vampire?!"

"Who said he nearly died?!" Retaliated Seamus, ignoring the fact that Quirrell was still in the room, "I say he's making half of it up!"

"How could you say that about a teacher?!" Piped up Hermione.

"Yeah, like you didn't just call him 'pathetic' a moment ago, haha..." scoffed Ron, joining in with the rest of the class as they began to squabble over Quirrell's alleged escapades with vampires.

As this was going on, Quirrell had turned very quiet. His eyes were darting most suspiciously around the room, settling finally on the boy who was trying to cover his face with his raven-black fringe. Just as Harry looked up through his hair to meet Quirrell's eye, a shot of pain seared through his head. Unable to stop himself, he clamped his hand over his scar and cursed in pain, willing himself to stay strong until the lesson ended.

_Why does Quirrell want to hurt me? _Harry thought sadly, thinking back to how many times he had asked the same question about the Dursleys. _I must really be a freak if even a teacher wants to hurt me...why do I always have to be weird and different? _

Harry couldn't help but fixate on Quirrell and his scar for the rest of the day, barely talking to anyone and trying desperately to keep it together until he could be on his own. He was terrified that Quirrell wanted to cause him harm, and hated himself at the thought that it was his fault.

After lessons had finished, Ron and Seamus both agreed that they would go to the library and make a start on their Herbology homework.

"Harry, you coming?" Ron asked, hoping that maybe Harry would agree to give him some of his answers. However, Harry just shook his head and allowed his scruffy fringe to fall over his eyes. "What is it, mate?" Ron questioned with concern, hoping that Harry wasn't feeling sick, because he didn't feel like having to take Harry to the hospital wing.

"It's nothing...my scar hurt again in Defence Against the Dark Arts...that's all," Harry muttered, afraid that if he raised his voice any louder then he would start crying.

"Oh mate, you should have said earlier!" Ron said, trying to sound as confident as possible. In truth, he too was quite afraid that something suspicious was going on with Harry's scar, but he didn't want to say so in front of his friend. "It'll be alright...just come and take your mind off it."

Harry thought about this, before replying quietly, "I'm scared it's my fault...". At these words, Ron couldn't help but roll his eyes slightly. Harry looked down at his shoes and forced himself not to let the tears fall down his cheeks. _Ron doesn't understand...he doesn't know what a freak I am... _he thought, pushing his glasses back up his nose as they began to slip.

"Come on mate..." Ron tried to reassure Harry, knowing that it wasn't going to do a lot of good. Ron thought back to the times when he was little and he had been scared. Okay, so he had never survived the killing curse and he had never been beaten by his relatives; nor did he have a lightening shaped scar that hurt like hell every now and then. But he had been scared like any child, and he wasn't sure what he would have done had it not been for his parents being there to listen to him and comfort him. Ron sighed, knowing that what Harry really needed was an adult to care about him. "Maybe you could go and see a teacher?" He suggested.

"Umm..yeah...okay..." Harry replied, deciding that he would go to find Professor Snape. That way, he would be able to talk to someone, and besides, he had promised Professor Snape that he would tell him if his scar hurt again. With this decision, Harry said goodbye to Ron – arranging to meet him in the dorms before dinner – and he started walking in the direction of the dungeons.

As Harry walked, his thoughts became more and more convoluted, until he was almost sure that Snape wouldn't want to see him.

_Professor Snape was so kind to me before...maybe he'll be kind to me again._

_ Oh, don't be stupid. Who would want to actually help you? The Professor was just saying that to make you feel better...he doesn't actually care about you. Uncle Vernon always said that freaks should be seen and not heard. Did you learn nothing from all those hours in the cupboard?_

_ I just need to tell him about my scar...Quirrell's trying to hurt me...I know it..._

_ Yeah, surprise surprise. An adult wants to hurt you...nothing new, is it Harry?_

As Harry approached Snape's office door, he had pretty much convinced himself to walk away. In fact, he had just started to turn back when a sharp voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Potter...what are you doing here?" Snape asked sternly, instantly wishing he hadn't been so harsh as the boy turned round to reveal his face covered in tears. His eyes blinked and shone in what little light there was, and his hair flopped over his face in every direction. He looked small and vulnerable, and Snape couldn't help but feel as though he needed to help the boy – in spite of everything. "Mr Potter, would you like to come into my office and tell me what has happened?" He asked, trying to sound as comforting as he could manage.

_There, I told you he'd want to see me! _Harry thought happily to himself. Severus was momentarily surprised at how much better his words had made Harry seem already, before remembering that the boy didn't really have anything to compare him to – perhaps just inviting him into his office was a kind act in the boy's eyes.

"Now then, Mr Potter, what is the matter?" Snape questioned once he and Harry were sitting in his office. This time, Snape had allowed Harry to take a seat on his sofa, knowing that it was more comfortable than the wooden chair by his desk. Severus drew up a chair opposite Harry so that he could look at him properly.

"S-sir...um..." Harry began, not sure how to proceed.

"Mr Potter, I cannot help if you do not explain to me what has happened," Snape said, regretting how harsh his voice had sounded.

"IwasinDefenceagainstthedarkartsandeveryonewastalkingandsoProfessorQuirrelllookedatmeand-" Harry spoke fast, stopping only to draw breath, "-thenwhenhelookedatmemyscarhurt..."

Snape took a while to process the information, once again having to hold back from correcting the boy for speaking so fast. "Alright, Mr Potter. Thank you for telling me," Snape eventually said, trying to hide his concern for the fact that Quirrell had made Harry's scar hurt twice now.

Initially, Snape assumed that the situation was dealt with, and even began to get up from his chair. However, he couldn't ignore the sound of sniffling still coming from Lily's child, and said as softly as he could, "There's no need to be scared, child."

"Sir...why does Professor Quirrell want to hurt me...have I been bad?" Harry asked weakly, forgetting his Gryffindor bravery and allowing himself to ask the question that he'd been worrying about all day.

"No, Mr Potter. You have not been bad. And even if you had, I assure you that you do not deserve to be harmed in any way," Snape explained, trying to keep his voice level and not allow the tone of concern to be heard.

Harry felt better at these words, but was still confused as to why exactly his scar had hurt. He wanted to ask a hundred more questions, but knew that he wasn't supposed to ask too many questions, especially not to adults. After a few seconds of silence, he tentatively said, "Professor...Hagrid told me that Voldemort gave me my scar, when he killed my parents...", hoping that the Potions Master would take this as more of a question than a statement.

Severus obliged, not knowing what to say but knowing he had to try something: "Mr Potter. I am sure that Professor Dumbledore knows far more than I about why your scar is hurting, but you should know that while you are at Hogwarts, you are safe. You survived that night because...because you are 'special'. You haven't done anything wrong." Snape explained clearly, deciding to leave the prophecy for Dumbledore to explain – especially seeing as he didn't want to have to tell Harry that it was _he _who gave Voldemort the prophecy in the first place.

_I know I am... _thought Harry, misinterpreting Snape's words, _I am 'special'. I am weird and different – even in the wizarding world. _

"I'm a freak just like my Aunt and Uncle said..." Harry cried, muffling his voice against the sleeve of his robe. He hadn't necessarily intended Snape to hear, but nevertheless the Potions Master heard ever word. An unusual feeling came over him as he watched Lily's child refer to himself in such a way.

"Mr Potter...why do you call yourself that?" Snape asked, remembering that this wasn't the first time he'd heard the term being used by the boy.

"Uncle Vernon told me to, sir. Because I did weird things like when I trapped Dudley in a snake cage because he was being nasty to the animals at the zoo. I didn't mean to do it...I'm just too much of a freak to control my weird behaviour..." Harry said, voicing what he had been thinking his whole life.

Severus' heart broke at Harry's words. "Mr Potter. You are not a freak, and I don't ever want to hear that term again," he said firmly, but not harshly. _Oh Lily...just look at your boy. What did those muggles do to him?_ "I said you are 'special', which I assure you is not a bad thing. I meant what I said...I promise I am here for you."

Harry got up from the sofa and approached the Potions Master, thoughts of Voldemort and Quirrell and his scar and Vault 713 all swimming through his mind and making him feel terrified. In that moment, he thought about his mother and the safety he felt whenever he thought about her. Tears continued to fall down his face as he went to stand right next to Severus. As though testing bath water, he inclined his head towards the Professor, and when nothing happened, he allowed himself to snuggle into Snape's sweet smelling robes, hugging him in desperation as he longed to feel safe again.

_What for Merlin's sake is the brat doing now? If he seriously thinks he can get away with hugging-_

_ Snape! Why are you hugging him back?! What is this...you're not seriously going to-_

_ Great...now your brushing his hair from his face. What has come over you?!_

Snape cursed his arms for hugging the emerald-eyed boy. A feeling of protectiveness threatened to creep into Severus' thoughts, and with a great deal of shock he began to break away from the clingy first year.

"Alright, Mr Potter," he said, pushing him away gently and looking directly into his eyes, Lily's eyes, "Why don't you go and find your friends now? Thank you for telling me about your scar, it was very brave of you."

_Professor Snape thinks I'm brave! And he wanted to help me! And he let me hug him...he's so kind... _Harry thought happily, feeling safe for the first time he could remember. He left the dungeons and made his way back to the dorms with a smile on his face_._

Severus sat at his desk and breathed a deep sigh. He wanted to help the child, but he didn't know how. And more to the point, how was he supposed to keep his reputation if he had first years hugging him left right and centre!?

**Thanks for reading, as always :D Please review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi :)**

**Just a quick warning: this chapter has Harry getting hurt and stuff so if that's not your thing then don't say I didn't warn you :P**

**Thanks so much for the reviews, as always :D**

**Disclaimer: I didn't own the wizarding world last chapter, and I don't this one either...it's belongs entirely to the amazing Jo Rowling :)**

**Enjoy...**

Chapter 8 – Fluffy

Harry lay awake after one of the strangest nightmares he'd ever had. He was shaking and sweating; tangled in his bedsheets from tossing in his sleep. At first, it was the usual:

_He was locked in his cupboard; his uncle was banging on the door, getting louder and louder. The whole cupboard shook, and sawdust fell from the ceiling as the room threatened to cave in. Harry knew that the door wouldn't hold much longer, and when it finally gave way, his Uncle would get him. It was just a matter of time..._

But then something new:_ Professor Quirrell was staring at him, laughing vehemently from every angle. His eyes filled Harry's dream and made his forehead scream with pain. Professor Snape was running towards him through a corridor, but somehow the corridor was getting longer and longer, narrowing increasingly until Harry knew there was no way the Potions Master would get there in time. He could still hear his Uncle banging at his door, and Quirrell's eyes shot into Harry's like a bullet. This time he knew it was too late..._

_ Just as the noise grew so loud Harry couldn't bear it, everything suddenly stopped. All was silent. Harry's dream turned to Vault 713, where all he could see was the little round package in the middle of the room. He was getting closer; so close that he could practically grab the stone. It was as though something was begging him to reach out and grab it...but he knew that he shouldn't._

_ Just as Harry's heart was racing so fast it threatened to cut through the silence, a familiar woman's scream flashed through his nightmare, accompanied by a sharp green light._

Harry jolted awake and gasped, waiting for his eyes to adjust in the hazy early-morning light. He had been so used to nightmares – they occurred practically every night at the Dursleys – but never before had Professor Quirrell featured. It was a new sense of fear that Harry had never experienced. When he was little he used to wish that his mother and father would be there when he woke up after a bad nightmare. But after years of hopeless wishing, he had learnt not to want for things that could never happen. Now, for the first time in years, Harry wished that someone was there for him again. Not his mother and father, but Professor Snape. He knew that Snape was probably asleep in the dungeons, ages away from the Gryffindor tower, but at least this was the first realistic wish he had ever had.

The next morning, Harry – feeling distinctly lethargic from his lack of sleep – ambled down to the common room with his fringe looking even more scruffy than usual. As much as he loved being at Hogwarts, Harry wasn't so fond of weekends. He wasn't used to the lack of rules, and felt much safer when all he had to do was sit at his desk and attend lessons. During weekends, he had to talk to lots of people, which he was still completely unaccustomed to, and he couldn't help but think about all the things his Aunt and Uncle had told him. He knew that this was something that would improve with time, but for now he felt much more secure in the familiar setting of a classroom.

Nevertheless, Harry was glad to be able to spend time with his friends, and it was with a smile that he went to join Ron and Hermione around one of the coffee tables facing the fire.

"What's that?" He asked, approaching Ron. He was referring to an old Daily Prophet which was folded on the table.

"Oh, that's called the Daily Prophet. It's basically a load of paper with articles of news written on it. Some of the articles have pictures to go with it, and it's written by journalists...wizards call it a newspaper-"

Harry giggled at Ron's explanation, "Muggles have newspapers too, you know!" Ron went slightly red on hearing this, but was able to laugh with Harry, "I meant what's that article about?"

Ron proceeded to show Harry that the article was describing a break-in at Gringotts. Apparently, someone had attempted to steal something valuable from Vault 713, but the vault had been emptied before they got a chance to steal it.

"That's the vault Hagrid and I went to...it was a small parcel thing..." Harry explained in a confused voice. Hermione and Ron both looked intrigued, and so Harry continued to explain exactly what had happened the day and how Hagrid had acted distinctly suspicious.

After breakfast in the great hall, Harry decided that he would get on with some homework, as the thought of having absolutely no work to do all day was completely foreign to him. Hermione readily agreed, and Ron did so reluctantly, so the three lions set out to find an empty classroom where they could go to work without any distractions. That, and they all wanted a chance to explore the castle a little more. They had been there for weeks now, and still hadn't come close to exploring the whole castle. They knew there way pretty well from the Gryffindor tower to the great hall and the dungeons and the various different classrooms; but rarely did they venture away from these familiar confines.

It was therefore with a sense of curiosity that Ron, Hermione and Harry decided that they would try to find a classroom away from the ones they knew already. Following Ron's suggestion, they ascended a marble staircase which led up to floor 6, knowing that they hadn't been around this floor yet that much. However, just as they were about to step off the staircase and look around, it gave a shudder and began to swing in the opposite direction, linking together with an even longer stair case that led to a much lower floor.

"The staircases change, remember?!" Hermione exclaimed in an exasperated tone as she saw Ron and Harry's perplexed expressions.

"Let's go this way.." Harry stated the obvious as he descended the stairs. It was either that, or walking all even further up felt much like doing that after the effort to get to floor 6 in the first place.

When they arrived at the top and stepped off the last marble step, it became clear that they had made a big mistake.

"This is the third floor! It's forbidden!" Hissed Hermione, highly distressed at the thought of breaking rules. Harry turned a very pale colour and could think of nothing but the punishment he was bound to get from getting into trouble like this. _Why am I such a freak that I can't even follow simple rules? _He thought sadly, using the term 'freak' for the first time since Snape's discussion with him.

"Let's get out of here," Ron said in a shaky voice, finding to his dismay that the staircase had already swung back to his original position. Realising that they had no other alternative, the three tentatively made there way through the third floor, hoping to find another exit as soon as possible.

The third floor corridor was dark and covered in low hanging cobwebs that covered statues in ever corner. It was mostly silent, but for a sudden meow coming from the other end of the passage.

"It's Filch's cat!" Hermione whispered, pulling at the boys' robes to run fast before Norris saw them. Harry heart beat like when he was being chased by Dudley and his gang, and he couldn't help but let all his bad memories flood back as the three ran away from the cat.

Just as they were sure they'd get away, Ron ran straight into a locked door, quickly followed by Harry and lastly Ron.

"Bloody thing's locked!" Ron exclaimed, pulling at the lock and trying in vain to open the door.

"That's it...we're done for..." Harry said in despair, trying not to cry in front of his friends. _Why didn't I just go to library and do homework like normal? What if Professor Snape doesn't like me any more because I am so stupid...now he'll know what a freak I actually am and he'll want to hurt me like Uncle Vernon and Quirrell._

Harry was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn't even notice as Hermione got out her wand and said "alohomora", opening the large oak door and entering. Almost without realising what had happened, Harry followed suit, and allowed himself to relax a little as the door closed once more. They had managed to avoid being caught; at least that was something.

All too soon, the three lions heard a growl coming from behind them, and they could barely contain their shock at the sight of a large, salivating dog with huge teeth and massive paws...oh, and three heads.

Keeping absolutely silent as though to avoid detection – despite the fact that they were stood directly in front of the hound – Hermione, Ron and Harry began looking around, trying to work out a way to get out of the situation.

"Look..." Hermione whispered slowly and quietly, "it's standing on something..."

Thinking back to Vault 713 and the article he had read that morning, Harry approached the 'something', seeing that the dog was standing on a trap door. Just as he had walked as far as he dared, he stood on a loose floor board and lost his footing slightly, bumping straight into the paw of the three-headed animal.

With a viscous growl, the head closest to Harry bared its sharp teeth and allowed a thick globule of drool to drip onto Harry's robes, before lashing out and biting Harry on the arm. Satisfied that he'd managed to protect the trap door, the dog returned to it's guard position, eyeing the children and growling angrily.

Harry shouted out in pain, and quickly turned to open the door and run back out, with Ron and Hermione following behind.

The three ran across the entire castle it seemed, until they reached the Gryffindor common room and were able to relax.

"What the bloody hell do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that in a school?" Ron questioned rhetorically, sighing deeply and sinking into an empty armchair. Nevertheless, Hermione answered:

"It's obviously guarding something." Ron considered the information, slowly linking together the facts

"Ohh...you don't think it was the parcel from Vault 713, do you?" Ron asked, stating what Hermione and Harry had already concluded. Hermione simply nodded, giving Ron a "well-done-Sherlock" look, before turning to Harry.

"Does it hurt, Harry?" Hermione asked, noting Harry's bite which seemed to be quite deep.

"No..." harry lied quietly, still pale in colour. _This is exactly what I deserve, why shouldn't I be hurt when I am a weird freak who can't stop getting into trouble?! _

"Should you go to the hospital wing?"

"No..." Harry repeated. _Probably...but if I go then they'll have to take my robes off, and then they'll see all the scars I have from my uncle...and I'll be in so much trouble and then Professor Snape will hate me. I can't let them see..._

Sadly and consumed with fear, Harry proceeded to rip up an old shirt of his – it had belonged to Dudley and was far too big for him anyway. With a layer of tears in his eyes, he took the strips of material and made a bandage around his arm to try to stop the bleeding.

_There...it's not so bad..._ Harry tried to convince himself as he tied the bandage as tight as he could bear, _Besides...I've had worse. _Harry remembered the time Dudley had broken his wrist, and his Aunt Petunia had simply wrapped a bandage and a few plasters around his wrist and given him a paracetamol. Even then, he hadn't been allowed to see a doctor, because of the scars from Uncle Vernon's punishments.

Ignoring the squabbling coming from Hermione and Ron as they made there was to lunch, Harry decided to stay in the dormitory and get on with homework; besides, he wasn't hungry – with all the food available in Hogwarts, he somehow felt a feeling of immense guilt.

_Look at you Harry. 3 meals a day? Even having Professor Snape care about you? A freak like you doesn't deserve all this...and now you've got hurt just like usual..._

Harry decided to do his Potions essay first, remembering how he felt when Snape told him he'd got those questions right in the very first lesson. He tried to remember how it had felt the last time he spoke to Snape, when he had been scared and Snape told him he was safe. He remembered how Snape had even let him hug him; for the first time in years he had felt secure.

_And now you've ruined it all..._ Harry thought glumly, allowing the tears to roll down his cheekse.

**Thanks for reading! Please review...**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hi :)**

**This carries on from last chapter so the warning still applies :P**

**Disclaimer: Unsurprisingly, I still don't own the Harry Potter series :)**

**Thanks for reviewing...please continue to do so!**

**Enjoy...**

Chapter 9 – The truth about the Dursleys

The next morning, a Monday, Harry awoke feeling awful. The first thing he did was look down at his arm, which was covered in bright red strips of material. His bed sheets were smeared in streaks of blood, and he was sweating and shivering even more than usual when he'd had nightmares.

Hurriedly, Harry got up and stripped his bed, knowing that the new sheets would be replaced by the evening. He then went to the bathroom, where he showered, and gritted his teeth as he washed the bite wound and replaced the strips of bandage. He then put on his newly washed robes and glasses, and forced a smile, knowing that if Ron or Hermione knew how bad the bite was they'd make him go to the hospital wing.

Feeling sick from blood loss and pain, Harry decided that he couldn't eat any breakfast. His arm stung madly and his head ached with a mixture of exhaustion and stress. He picked at his bowl of porridge and tried to focus on something other than his throbbing head.

"Are you alright, mate?" Ron asked with concern, tucking into his bacon and eggs. Harry forced himself to nod and smile, having done the same on countless occasions at his old muggle school. "Well come on then...we have Potions first; let's not be late!" Ron said with a smile, stuffing the last mouthful into his cheeks and pulling Harry's robes towards the exit.

The two boys walked briskly down into the dungeons, where they took their seats at the front of the classroom out of habit, and waited for the potions master to arrive.

Professor Snape entered the classroom in his usual manner, and began addressing the class from the moment he reached the front, telling them to collect ingredients for a potion to cure boils again, as their last attempts had been almost too pitiable to bother marking.

Harry and Ron paired up as usual, and Ron went to collect ingredients as Harry stayed back to prepare the cauldron.

_Why is the boy using just one arm? And why does he look so pale?! _Snape's heart skipped as he saw Lily's son struggling to get his desk ready to brew the potion when he was obviously feeling too unwell to be in lessons.

The lesson continued in such a way, with Harry having to stop and sit down every now and then when he felt too ill to stand. Snape eyed him with suspicion, wandering if perhaps he had fallen victim to another one of Malfoy's jinxes.

Harry could feel his hand-made bandage getting increasingly wet, terrified that soon he was going to pass out. He knew that he had to do something, but with Snape glaring at him from his desk, and the hospital wing being out of the question, Harry couldn't think of anything he could do. So he just stayed at his stool and stirred the cauldron clockwise 5 times as instructed.

"You sure you're alright, mate?" Ron asked, noticing that Harry was very quiet and even paler than he had been over breakfast.

"No...I-I think I may need to see Madam Pomfrey about the bite..." Harry admitted reluctantly, hoping that maybe he could blame the scars on an old pet or something. Ron nodded in understanding, but seeing Snape's glare decided that they would have to wait until the lesson was finished to go to Pomfrey.

In truth, Snape was not so much glaring as watching in concern (the expression being so rare that Snape barely knew how to make it differ from his usual stern one). _Bite?! What does the boy mean 'bite'?! If one of that half-giant oaf's beasts thinks it can bite Lily's son and get away with it then it has another thing coming!_

Just as Harry and Ron had finished bottling their Boil Cure, Snape walked over with a sweep of his robe so that he stood directly in front of their cauldron.

"Pitiable..." He said. In fact, he was actually quite surprised with the accuracy of the potion, but he needed an excuse to talk to Harry, "Mr Potter, you can stay behind for your evident lack of any basic listening skills." The entire Slytherin group laughed and jeered as they watched Perfect Potter's eyes fill instantly with tears.

_I knew it! The Professor is angry with me...he doesn't care about me any more. And now I can't go to Madam Pomfrey and I'm going to pass out..._

Harry's thoughts became so panicked that he began having an anxiety attack, which on top of everything else made him feel so dreadful that all he wanted to do was curl up and cry.

Ron gave him a deeply apologetic look and left along with the rest of the class, leaving Harry alone with Snape in the classroom.

Deciding that he wasn't trained in the art of legilimency for no reason, Severus looked directly into Harry's emerald eyes and allowed himself to read the boy's thoughts.

_He watched as Harry and his friends were accidentally taken to the third floor, and how – through no mistake of his own – Harry had come face to face with that half-giant's idiot beast with three heads. He then saw, to his great surprise, Harry actually approaching the beast! And getting bitten deeply on his upper-arm. _

Snape broke out of Harry's thoughts quickly, and thought about what he had seen. On one hand, the boy had evidently broken the rules, and was an absolute fool for going near the hound. But on the other hand, it had been entirely accidental, and Harry wasn't to know that the dog was going to hurt him. Besides, Snape felt a strange feeling of concern for Harry's well-being that far surpassed any feeling of anger.

"Show me your arm, Mr Potter." Snape demanded firmly.

Harry's breathing was erratic and the room was swimming around him. He was shaking and his bite wound had started to drip from the bandage. He looked at Professor Snape with a layer of tears in his eyes and knew that he hadn't any choice but to show the man the bite.

_The poor boy...he must be hurting...why didn't he tell me sooner? _Snape gently removed Harry's robes so that he could see the wound clearly. He tried to contain his shock as he saw the various marks and scars across Harry's back – evidently from being beaten. He breathed a sigh and reached for a healing potion, which he administered directly to the wound.

Harry's relaxed slightly as he watched the bite healing before him. _Why isn't Professor Snape telling me off...he must really be the nicest adult I've ever met! _Harry thought happily, allowing himself to calm down a little as Snape healed and cleaned the bite.

"There, Mr Potter. Perhaps in future you will come to see me _before _you are too ill to stand," Snape tried to sneer, but couldn't bring himself to sound too harsh as he looked into the boy's scared eyes. "I meant what I said, Potter. You can trust me."

"I-I was scared you'd be cross...sir..." Harry admitted quietly, rubbing his newly healed arm.

"Mr Potter. I may be strict, but believe it or not I am not in the habit of punishing children for accidents." Snape said knowingly, seeing the surprise in Harry's eyes. "Now...drink this."

Harry obliged, drinking a foul tasting potion from a tiny bottle.

"What was that, sir?" He asked as he gulped the dose down.

"That, Potter, was a pain relief potion. Would you like some calming draught as well?" Snape asked, noting the boys fast breathing and shaking.

"No sir...thank you," Harry replied, knowing better than to ask for anything when Snape was being so nice already.

"Very well," said Snape. He knew that Harry would have probably said 'no' no matter what, but the boy already seemed to have calmed down substantially. Going against every instinct he had developed over the years, Severus extended his hand and rubbed small circles in Harry's back, encouraging the boy to breath slowly.

"Well done, Mr Potter," Snape said softly. _So now you're rubbing the brat's back. What has come over you, Snape?! One minute hugs, the next minute you are talking to the boy as though you are Molly Weasley, not Severus Snape! What happened to the snarky bat of the dungeons?! Oh shut it, Snape...what's the boy doing now?!_

Harry, calmed at Snape's comforting actions, snuggled his head into the arm of Snape's robes and allowed himself to feel safe once more. _Really, Snape?! _Severus brushed Harry's raven fringe slowly, saying "Alright, Mr Potter," by way of consoling the boy.

Harry eventually raised his head to look up at the potions master, who rolled his eyes affectionately at Harry's teary face. With a single wave of his wand Severus cleaned Harry's face, who giggled at the sensation. Then, remembering the marks on Harry's back, Snape looked directly at Harry and said levelly, "Mr Potter...how did you acquire the scars on your back?"

At this question, Harry tried to burrow his head once more into Snape's arm to avoid having to answer, but before he could Snape rose to his full height and took Harry by the shoulder, ushering him over to the sofa where they both took a seat.

"Mr Potter, as I said before, you can trust me. Did someone hurt you?" He asked directly, looking into Harry's green eyes and trying not to feel too heart-broken at the thought of Lily's child getting beaten.

After almost a whole minute of silence, Harry gathered up the bravery to reply. "My Uncle," he said plainly. Snape nodded, knowing that even saying that much was probably very difficult for the boy.

"Alright, Mr Potter. Thank you for telling me. I know you are probably still feeling unwell, so that will be all for today. However, I will expect an explanation when you have had some rest," Severus began, seeing the sheer fear in Harry's eyes, "I know it will be hard, but you can trust me. Come now, you certainly can't stay here all day."

With that, he rose and led Harry towards the hospital wing, where he informed Poppy of what had happened. He showed Harry to a bed, knowing that there was no way Harry was going to any more lessons that day.

Poppy put a screen around Harry's bed and allowed him to get change into the hospital wing pyjamas. He was relieved that Madam Pomfrey wouldn't have to see the scars, but was still aware that Snape knew, and was liable to tell anyone.

"Sir..." He whispered when he was under the bed sheets.

"Yes, Mr Potter?" Snape asked thinly, not at all accustomed to any sort of bedside manner.

"You won't tell anyone...will you, sir?" Harry asked quietly. Snape considered this for a second.

"Not just yet, Mr Potter. You mustn't think on it any more today; until you are rested there is no use in worrying." Snape instructed, not wanting the boy to get worked up out of exhaustion. He forced out an encouraging half-smile, which made Harry feel slightly reassured. But just as he was about to leave, Harry's stomach growled angrily with hunger.

"Mr Potter...I trust you are eating?" Snape asked sternly.

"It's alright, Professor. Aunt Petunia said that freaks don't need as much food as normal people." Harry explained matter-of-factly, although deep down he wouldn't have minded a bite or two to eat.

_Oh Lily...what have those Dursley's done to your son? I promise he will never be going back there... _"Mr Potter, I thought I told you never to use that term again. As for food, you must eat three meals a day, plus any snacks you require." At this, he called for a house elf to prepare soup and sandwiches for Harry.

Harry's eyes widened in surprise as he saw a small creature snap into the room carrying a tray of food. It was about two and a half feet in height, with spindly arms and a long nose. Its eyes were wide, and a few single hairs seemed to stick up on its otherwise bald head. It was wearing a dishcloth tied at the shoulders, and as it walked it bobbed its head as though it had never been happier than to serve Harry his food.

"There you is, master," It said in a squeaky voice, placing the tray down on the hospital bed stand.

"Hehe...thank you!" Harry laughed at the little creature. The elf bowed it's head and smiled at Harry's politeness, before nodding feudally towards Snape and disappearing with a click.

Snape watched as Harry eagerly tucked into his food, and could help but smile at Harry's scruffy fringe and the way the boy giggled at seeing a house elf for the first time.

"Foolish child..." Snape said to himself, before turning to leave, little knowing that a certain bearded old man had been watching the seen most contentedly from the corner of the room.

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	10. Chapter 10

**Hi :)**

**As always, thanks for the reviews! They mean a lot :D**

**Disclaimer: I have never and will never own the rights to the Wizarding World or Harry Potter :P It all belongs to JKR :)**

**Enjoy this chapter...**

Chapter 10 – A Sensitive Discussion

It was a late September morning that saw Harry wake in the hospital wing. Looking around sheepishly, he noted that aside from Madam Pomfrey, he was alone in the room, which was largely white and furnished almost exclusively with metal bed frames and bedside tables.

Poppy brought Harry his breakfast, which consisted of waffles and syrup on Severus' orders – although Harry wasn't aware of this, for Snape had made Poppy promise to keep the request a secret. He may have finally accepted that he cared for the boy, but he certainly didn't need half the school knowing about it!

As Harry was happily tucking in, feeling completely better after a rather horrible day before, he heard a tapping on the window behind him. Using the arm that was bitten as though to test how well the potions had worked, Harry opened the window and allowed Hedwig to land neatly on the frame of his bed, handing him a rolled up piece of parchment.

"Thanks, Hedwig," Harry said kindly as he gave Hedwig a few knuts and ruffled her feathers before turning to the note. It was with a happy smile that Harry noted that it was from Professor Snape:

_Mr Potter,_

_ I trust that you are feeling better? I have not forgotten yesterday. Kindly come to see me during your lunch break today, and we will resume our discussion. _

_ Have a good day,_

_ Professor Snape._

Harry's face fell as he remembered the details of the day before, knowing that by 'discussion' Snape meant that he had to tell him about the Dursleys. Although his spirits were lifted slightly when he read that Snape had wished him a good day. _Oh well...maybe I really can trust Professor Snape...I suppose it wouldn't hurt to just tell him..._Harry resolved, tired of finding new reasons to doubt Snape's incentives for being kind.

"Alright, Mr Potter. Let's get you dressed and then you can be getting off to your lessons!" Announced Madam Pomfrey abruptly once Harry's breakfast tray had been cleared. As she spoke, she wrapped a privacy screen around Harry's bed so that he could change into his school robes. Once he had finished, he said goodbye to Madam Pomfrey politely, and to the house elf who was already changing the bed sheets. And with that, he left, feeing a mixture of apprehension and optimism as he went to find Ron.

Thoughts of the previous day still swam around inside Harry's head as he said goodbye to Ron in the Great Hall and arranged to meet him later. He knew that he wasn't allowed to talk to anyone about being beaten by his Uncle; that much was certain. But he also knew that if he was going to trust anyone, then it would be Professor Snape. A part of him was almost glad that he could finally get it out in the open, even if it would get him into even more trouble. Plus of course, Snape would think he was brave if he told him. But nevertheless Harry couldn't help but feel angry with himself for being so pathetic and useless. He wanted more than anything to just be loved and cared for, by _anyone, _but was afraid that talking about the Dursleys' methods of punishment might make things worse. He thought perhaps that it was just what he deserved; after all, he had been rejected his entire life. Why did he think that Hogwarts would be any different?

_Anyway, if Uncle Vernon was right, and freaks like me do deserve to be beaten, then what if Snape agrees?!_

Before his thinking became too negative, Harry shook her head to interrupt his train of thought, reminding himself that Snape had forbidden the use of 'freak', and he had assured him that he didn't deserve to be hurt.

He was just ambling along the passage way, talking to a few painting and trying to stay positive, when he finally came to the dungeons. Knowing his way now – and no longer fazed as the Bloody Baron roamed the corridor – Harry came to the open door of his potions room, and knocked accordingly.

"Enter," came Snape's familiar voice. As it was lunch break, the room was empty, but for the potions master and the little bottles of potions. "Mr Potter, take a seat..." Snape said cautiously when Harry entered. Harry started for the desk chair, but Snape indicated that Harry could sit at the sofa instead, for it was more comfortable. "Now, I want no lies, Potter. Tell me the truth: did the Dursleys hurt you?"

Harry's eyes instantly glistened with frightened tears at Snape's insensitive question. He knew the conversation was going to be difficult, but a little understanding on Snape's part would have helped.

_Well done Snape! What's next in you brilliant plan?! Or had you not got that far...so much for the new Snape! You're still just the snarky old git of the dungeons, aren't you?..._

_ I'm sorry Lily...I'm just not very good at this..._

Snape began to panic as he realised just how insensitive his words had been. He was so unused to having to think about every word he said that he just hadn't considered how inappropriate a question it was. After all the years he had spent becoming a potions master; serving the Dark Lord whilst spying for the Light side, and he couldn't even have a simple conversation to make Harry Potter – the only child he had ever cared about – feel safe. _No. I can't give up now. Look at that stupid bloody Boy Who Lived...so like his mother. _

"It's alright, child. I hadn't meant to frighten you. You can tell me whatever you want," Snape began again, hoping that it would be enough to regain the boy's confidence.

Harry looked up and blinked the tears away, tired of crying in front of Professor Snape. "Thank you sir," he said, meaning it sincerely, "I didn't mean to get upset..."

"That's quite alright. I understand that this is a difficult subject for you. Perhaps you could begin by explaining to me about your cousin?" Snape asked tactfully, wondering if perhaps the Dursley's son was closer to Harry than his Aunt and Uncle were.

"Dudley? He hated me, I think. Although it wasn't his fault because I was weird and dangerous, according to Aunt Petunia. Dudley was allowed toys and presents, but I mainly had to stay in my cupboard. His gang often chased me and beat me up, but I wasn't really scared of him because he was quite slow and I could usually out-run him. Also, one time we went to the zoo and I accidentally made his get trapped in a snake enclosure because he was being nasty to the animals. I didn't know I was magic back then...Uncle Vernon got really cross and punished me..." Harry trailed off towards the end, realising what he had said. He immediately bit his lip and looked at the ground, regretting saying anything – he wanted to just forget that his muggle life ever existed; that way he wouldn't have to constantly worry about saying the wrong thing and getting into trouble. Snape noticed his sudden change in behaviour and understood completely. He was glad that the boy had told him what he did, but knew that asking any more would be pushing him too far. Instead, he met his eye reassuringly, and decided to change the subject for a while to give Harry a break, before returning to the discussion later.

"The zoo, Mr Potter? That sounds good," _Urgh Snape, just listen to yourself! Oh, shut up..._

"It was, sir!" Harry replied excitedly, "I saw snakes and monkeys and giraffes...I was allowed to walk around on my own as long as I didn't get lost or draw attention to myself – it was great!"

Snape thought about this, wondering how to proceed without sounding too forceful. "Did you go out to places like the zoo often, Potter?

Harry shook his head and said, "I usually got looked after by Mrs Figg while my Aunt and Uncle took Dudley, only she had broken her leg that day so they had no choice but to take me..."

_ The boy is so well behaved. Most boys his age would be complaining and whining if they had to stay behind and not go places. _"I see. You mentioned how your Uncle punished you after your trip to the zoo, Mr Potter," Snape questioned tentatively, hoping that Harry wouldn't be too afraid to answer, "can you remember what that was like?"

"Yes, sir..." Harry said quietly, deciding not to expand any further on the statement.

Snape sighed, not knowing how he was going to coax the information out of the boy. He realised he would have to be even more sensitive than this. "Did your Uncle punish you often, child?"

"Yes, sir..."

"And were these punishments fair?"

"I don't know," Harry replied truthfully, looking at his shoes.

"Well, did your Uncle ever hurt you?" Snape asked levelly, trying to make his voice sound secure so that Harry would feel comfortable explaining.

"Umm..." Harry began, this time not being corrected by the professor, "yes...sir..." he said, so quietly that Snape had to lean in to hear. As he did so, Harry couldn't help but allow the tears to fill his eyes once more, and as Snape's robes brushed against his own he buried his head in the potion master's chest

"Mr Potter, I assure you that no punishment that involves harm coming to you is ever fair," Snape said firmly but kindly, allowing the boy to once more cling to his robes for safety. He wanted to tell him that he needn't worry about ever being punished again, but somehow felt that it would mean very little to the boy, who had evidently lived in fear of the Dursleys since he was a baby. "Did your Uncle give you all the scars, Mr Potter?" Snape asked softly, getting pretty good now at the comforting voice. Harry said nothing, but nodded into Snape's robes to confirm his suspicions. After everything Harry had admitted, Snape didn't need ligilimency to ascertain that the scars were clearly from being beaten – possibly by a belt or something similar.

"Come on now, Mr Potter. You should be getting to your lessons," Snape said after a few minutes had past. He knew that they still had a lot to talk about, but Harry had certainly done enough for today.

Dumbledore had just finished feeding Fawkes when he heard the door swing open to reveal the one man he was always happy to see: Severus Snape.

"Severus! A pleasure as always! Lemon sherbet?" Dumbledore offered the sweet almost ironically now, and had already put the packet down again before Snape had a chance to refuse it, as usual. "I trust all is well with you down in those murky dungeons of yours? I do wish you'd get out more...this castle knows no bounds after all, and-"

"Albus, while I always enjoy these little conversations," Snape said, pretending to be deeply bitter about the old man's jovial topics of conversation. In truth, he felt nothing but gratitude and admiration for the old wizard, but having just spent the last hour comforting a Gryffindor first year, he wasn't about to admit it any time soon. Dumbledore laughed knowingly, and permitted Snape to continue, overlooking the interruption. "I need to talk to you about...Potter."

"Oh? His scar has been hurting again?" Dumbledore asked with concern, eyes twinkling ferociously at Snape's evident care for Harry's well-being. He thought back to the scene he had witnessed in the hospital wing; how Severus had unknowingly cared for Harry just as Albus knew he would. It seemed his plan was falling into place.

"No, Albus. He has just informed me of the method by which he was punished at his relatives' house. I thought perhaps you ought to be aware that the boy has scars bigger and far more numerous from his Uncle's punishments than You Know Who ever gave him!" Snape allowed his voice to raise beyond its usual monotonous volume.

"You mean he was beaten, Severus?" Dumbledore asked gravely, sitting down at his desk to steady himself. The twinkle in his eyes had gone, only to be replaced by a look of regret. Blood wards may stretch to even the most ghastly of muggles, but apparently love and compassion did not. Pushing his half-moon spectacles up his crooked nose, Albus looked up at Snape, who seemed to be emulating his solemn expression well.

"Yes, Albus. It was difficult to get him to explain to me, but I believe I can now say with certainty that Harry was abused in his home."

"I..I mean...we knew he hadn't received his letters, or the information I wrote when I first left him. But never did I think that-"

"It wasn't your fault, Albus," Snape said, surprising himself. _So now you're comforting the foolish old man with too many names as well as the bloody Boy Who Lived?! What has come over you, Severus?_"It seems Harry was well trained to keep these affairs a secret. You most certainly weren't to know," Severus continued in a voice dripping with contempt for those dreadful muggles.

"I see, Severus..." Dumbledore mused over the information he had just received, "Rest assured that the matter will be looked into and...adequately dealt with," Dumbledore finished, the twinkle in his eyes returning once again as he envisage a certain animagus witch and a dark potions master showing the Dursleys just how much Harry Potter meant to them. Thoughts of Severus returned Albus to his original train of thought, regarding just how perfectly Snape seemed to be taking to caring for the boy. He looked into the bat's eyes and clasped his hands together endearingly, before saying "Severus, my dear man. It seems wonderful that young Harry feels able to confide in you about these matters..."

_I know Albus...Lily would be so pleased to know that Harry is started to trust me at last. _"Well, Albus. If the Potter child has chosen to speak to me then that is his decision and as a Professor here I am glad he is doing so," Snape chose his words carefully, hoping that Dumbledore wouldn't necessarily pick up on the fact that even declaring himself 'glad' was highly unusual for the snarky bat of the dungeons.

Unsurprisingly, Albus most certainly did pick up on Snape's wording, and had to make a great effort not to laugh out loud with glee that his plan was working.

**As always, thank you for reading! Please review...**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hi :)**

**Again, thanks so so much for the reviews and just for reading :)**

**Haha so I know the title of this chapter is a little cringy but I couldn't resist :P**

**Disclaimer: Still in love with the wizarding world; still don't own it...**

**Enjoy... **

Chapter 11 – Trolls and Tribulations

"Did you grow all these, Hagrid?" Harry asked with a smile as he and Hagrid walked together into the great hall. Harry was referring to the large Halloween pumpkins that adorned the hall ready for the much anticipated Halloween feast.

"O' course I did, 'arry!" Hagrid boomed, scruffing Harry's fringe with his giant hand. Harry and Hagrid chatted happily, before Hagrid departed for the teachers' table, and Harry went to sit next to Ron at the Gryffindor table. Ever since his trip to Diagon Alley, Harry had enjoyed Hagrid's company, and even felt quite at ease talking to the half-giant. Nevertheless, he still felt that he could trust Professor Snape more than anyone else, and it was with a sense of relief that Harry noted Snape's presence at the teachers' table too. He also noticed that Quirrell was not in his usual seat, which was strange, but Harry was just glad his scar wouldn't hurt during the feast.

The hall had been decorated with caramel apples, black cauldrons, live bats flying across the ceiling, a plethora of candles, and orange streamers hanging from arches in the walls. More noticeable than anything were the large, candy-filled pumpkins that hung in the air and finished off the Halloween effect perfectly.

"Hey, Ron," Harry greeted, sitting down and looking around for Hermione, "Where's Hermione?" he asked when he realised she wasn't seated yet. It certainly wasn't like her to be late to an event such as the Halloween feast.

Before Ron could answer, Neville chipped in: "Ron insulted her during Charms when he said she was an 'insufferable know it all'..." Harry rolled his eyes in a friendly manner at Ron, before allowing Neville to continue, "apparently she's been in the bathroom all evening, crying!" At this, Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of empathy. Considering how many times he had spent locked in his cupboard, crying at a comment Dudley had made, Harry knew how Hermione was probably feeling.

Before Harry could get too concerned, a sound of tapping on glass came from the teachers' table, where Professor McGonagall was standing and waiting for quiet. When the students obliged, she made a few introductory announcements, before handing over to Professor Dumbledore.

"A terribly terrific All Hallows Eve to you all!" Dumbledore exclaimed jovially, "Now...let the feast begin!"

The feast was just as rich and plentiful as the start of term feast, with the addition of Halloween themed food such as suspicious looking worms and eyeballs floating in various bowls. Harry and Ron momentarily forgot Hermione as they took in the sights around them. Harry, still unused to being allowed so much food, waited for those next to him to serve themselves, before finally reassuring himself to tuck in. With a lot of smiling and laughter, the Gryffindor table was awash with festivity and celebration.

From the teachers' table, however, there was a certain snarky bat with dark robes and greasy hair who could not quite get into the festive spirit. He sat isolated from the other professors not touching his food, glaring down at the students and trying to find one raven-haired boy in particular amongst the crowd. Never did he think that he would ever _want _to see that Boy Who Lived, but somehow things had changed. The 31st of October had never been easy for Severus, and he thought that perhaps the sight of the only living person he could ever envisage loving as much as Lily would make him feel just a little less lonely. For Halloween marked the most dreadful day of Snape's life: The day Lily was murdered.

_Oh, Harry...if you could know what happened on that dreadful night, you wouldn't be laughing amongst your friends now..._Severus thought, watching Harry as he enjoyed the feast. It made Snape happy to see the boy eating and feeing at ease, which he knew was hard for him considering the up-bringing he had endured, but nevertheless Snape couldn't help feeling slightly resentful at Harry's happiness. _Why must I endure this guilt and sadness, when the boy gets to live his life free of such worries?!_

_ Is that really true, Snape? The boy has grown up without love or security, just like you...or have you forgotten?! _

Snape considered his thoughts carefully, wondering if perhaps the lion was more like himself than he thought. _No wonder he is a Gryffindor; he's braver than I'll ever be. He has suffered losses just as I have, and yet he can still laugh and make friends. _Snape had to physically shake his head to snap out of his thoughts before he started considering the possibility that Gryffindors weren't the complete perfect idiots he always thought they were.

Just as people were beginning to push their plates away with a deep sigh, and clutch their full stomachs happily to indicate that the feast was well and truly over, Dumbledore was just about to clear the tables when a scream came from outside the large entrance doors.

"Troll in the dungeons!" Came the quivering cry of Professor Quirrell. He broke through the doors and ran straight through the hall up to the teachers' table; all fell silent as they watched him flailing his arms and running in panic. "There's a...t-troll! In the dungeons!" Quirrell said again, this time directed to Albus, who was raised in his seat with a serious expression on his face.

Snape flashed his eyes sharply towards the DADA professor at the mention of _his _dungeons. If a troll thought it could walk into _his _dungeons and get away with it, it was very much mistaken. _But wait...just how did this beast get in? If those bloody Weasley twins-_

_ Snape! Will you stop! How could students let a troll into the school?! Besides, they've been sat over there on the Gryffindor table all evening. So then who-? _Snape drew breath sharply as he looked into the eyes of the quivering man in a turban. _So first he makes Potter's scar hurt, and now he runs in announcing trolls?! _It didn't take long for the potions master to put two and two together, and soon he was almost convinced that it was Quirrell who let the troll in. Why? He didn't know, but he could only speculate..._The stone._

"Th-Thought you outta knoww.." Quirrell stuttered, before fainting right in front of the entire hall.

As the hall became awash with panic and noise, Snape slipped out unnoticed with one thing in mind: his promise to Dumbledore that he would protect the stone. He quickly checked that Harry was with the rest of his house, before leaving quietly and making his was towards the third floor.

It wasn't until Harry was halfway to the Gryffindor tower that he remembered Hermione.

"Hermione doesn't know!" He said suddenly, alerting Ron of the problem. Harry looked round to see if he could see Professor Snape, but realised that he wasn't there. He thought about finding another teacher, but something inside him told him he couldn't. He had gained a lot of confidence since he had first come to Hogwarts, but approaching teachers amid a crowd of panicking students wasn't looking too appealing. Besides, they were quite close to the girls' toilets.

"Come on then..." Ron said, turning against the crowd and making his way to the bathrooms. Harry followed accordingly; neither of them thinking they would get into any trouble. After all, they were ages away from the dungeons.

As they made it to the bathrooms, they heard a low rumbling growl, and could barely contain their shock as they felt the floor shake with each footstep. It seemed the troll had left the dungeons, and was coming straight towards them.

"Great. That's just my luck," Ron said, trying to add humour to the situation, but failing as his voice gave away his fear. Harry couldn't say anything, but gulped and he brushed his fringe away from his face and ran into the bathrooms.

"Hermione!" He called, trying to shout and whisper at the same time.

"What do you want?" She sniffled, red eyed with messy hair and a thoroughly sullen expression on her face.

"No time to explain! There's a troll, and we need to get out now!" He explained hurriedly, hoping that Hermione – intelligent as she was – would catch on. Unfortunately, it seemed that she was a little too slow off the mark, for as she tried to process the information while wiping her face and brushing her hair with her hand, there was a violent crash that broke through the bathroom doors, and all too soon they came face to face with a fully grown mountain troll.

"Now what do we do?!" Ron asked in defeat, looking to Harry as though he had all the answers. However, it seemed that somehow surviving the killing curse at the hands of He Who Must Not Me Named didn't necessarily mean you could defeat a mountain troll with ease. Harry's eyes were filled with panic as he tried to formulate a quick plan. Having been chased and bullied enough times, he knew the benefit of thinking on his feet. And it was this skill that led to him practically mounting the troll, landing ungracefully around it's neck as it swung it's wooden club through the entire row of bathroom stalls. In a split second, he stuck his wand right up the troll's nose, rendering it unable to swing its club anymore.

_Oh...mum...dad...Professor Snape...someone! Please help. Oh no...just stay calm; it's okay. You survived Dudley's gang, you can survive a 'little' tiny mountain troll. Nice troll...there...you won't hurt me will you...? Oh no...Snape...where are you?! _Harry couldn't contain his panic any longer, and started to breath very fast as he was swung violently from side to side by the disgruntled troll.

"Do something!" Harry exclaimed in fear, scrunching his eyes shut and trying to imagine how it had felt when Snape had been there to comfort him.

"What?" Came Ron's voice filled with terror.

"Anything!" _How should I know?! _Harry whispered "it's okay" over and over in his head, trying desperately to stay calm in the hope that Snape would come soon.

From underneath the sinks, Hermione traced a spell motion with her finger, willing Ron to take her advice. With a few nods, Ron took out his wand and said "wingardium leviosa", just like Hermione had done. The three watched as the wooden club rose from the troll's hand and floated high above its head, until it fell with great force and sent the troll falling to the ground, unconscious.

Still breathing rapidly and shaking so much he could barely stand, Harry got up from the ground and stepped silently away from the monster than lay before him.

"Severus! Severus! I can't find Potter or his friends Weasley and Granger!" Came the Scottish cry of Minerva McGonagall. Snape had just returned from the third floor, and was about to join the rest of the staff in fighting the troll when he was stopped by a rather worried animagus in dark green robes.

"The troll?" Snape asked seriously, resisting the temptation to ask why for Merlin's sake did McGonagall let Harry get lost.

"It's left the dungeons. I believe it's heading towards the bathrooms," Minerva explained, already hurrying towards the girls' toilets with Snape following suit.

After minutes of running, the two professors reached the bathroom, finding Dumbledore already there alongside three rather dishevelled looking lions.

Harry, still in the middle of a panic attack, could do nothing but stare at his feet and will himself not to start crying.

"Ah, Severus, Minerva. I believe Mr Potter and his friends have already dealt with the situation. It seems my expertise is no longer required," Dumbledore spoke with a hint of disapproval, but a twinkle in his eyes and a slight smile directed at Harry showed that he wasn't cross. Without another word, he turned to leave, knowing that his two most trusted professors would deal with the situation perfectly.

"Potter! Weasley! Why you thought you would be better equipped to deal with this than me, Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore, I do not know. You should be deeply ashamed."

_Ashamed?! _Thought Snape, _They should be bloody disgraced! Risking their lives in this way and causing me so much worry! _Snape could have exploded with anger and concern for Harry's safety, but knew too well that this would probably make matters worse. Besides, as he noted the terrified look on Harry's face, he couldn't help but wonder if perhaps his was another unfortunate accident like when the child had ended up on the third floor. _No...let Minerva deal with this. Getting angry won't do any good, _he resolved, surprising himself at his own rationality.

"Harry and Ron were just trying to help me, Professor...it was my fault. I thought I could handle it, but I was wrong..." Hermione lied, so grateful for Ron and Harry's kindness that she was even prepared to risk the wrath of McGonagall and Snape.

"Miss Granger? I had expected better from you, of all students. 20 points from Gryffindor."

_20 points?! Is that all?! You must be- _

_ Wait! Harry was risking his own life to save Granger? He is more like his mother than he knows..._

"As for you two," Minerva continued sharply, "I am sure that not many first years could tackle a fully grown mountain troll and live to tell the tale. 15 house-points to both of you." Ron smiled with relief and thanked his head of house, looking over to Harry who was still shaking and staring at his feet.

"That's good isn't it, mate?" He asked, trying to get Harry to respond.

"Ohh...uhuh...s-sure..." Harry replied distractedly, his voice shaking so violently he wasn't sure if he could even formulate a sentence properly.

"Alright, you three. All of you to bed!" McGonagall instructed, knowing that the troll would still need to be taken care of.

Ron and Hermione smiled weakly, and began to leave. Harry, however, stayed rooted to the spot, genuinely unsure as to whether he knew how to walk. It seemed that everything had disappeared and all he could think about was how much he wanted someone to tell him it was okay.

Snape noticed this, and was about to turn around to leave when his conscious decided otherwise.

_Snape! Will you just look at the boy!? He needs you...Lily's son needs you, you know that!_

_ Oh, shut up Severus...I know...I know. _

"Mr Potter. Come with me." He said firmly, hoping that McGonagall would assume that he intended to punish the boy and not look after him. It was with a hint of a smile, however, that Minerva caught Severus' eye knowingly. Snape gritted his teeth and tried to swallow his pride, before walking over to Harry and taking him reassuringly by the shoulder.

Severus led Harry out of the girls' bathroom and into the corridor, where he knelt to his level and looked into the boy's glistening eyes.

"Alright, Mr Potter. It's okay. Can you walk with me now?" Snape asked, throwing away his dignity in favour of helping Lily's son. Harry noted the change in Snape's voice from one of harshness to a tone of reassurance and calm. He felt a little better, and knew that if Snape was there he was going to be safe. Nevertheless, he was sure that he couldn't walk on his own, and snuggled into Snape's robes as an answer.

"Very well, Mr Potter," Snape said, rolling his eyes as he picked up the thin little boy. Harry took in the sweet smell of potions and he buried his head in Snape's sweeping robe, allowing himself to cry silently over the potion master's shoulder.

Hoping that no one would intercept his trip from the corridor to the dungeons, Severus carried Harry all the way back, deciding to go straight to his quarters instead of his office. He sat Harry down on a leather sofa by a roaring green fireplace, and brushed the hair from his red face.

Snape thought back to 10 years ago on that very day, when he had cradled Lily's body. Harry had been there, crying with a look of fear in his eyes. Even back then, Snape had wished he could comfort the baby, but knew better than to stay too long. Looking at Harry now, Snape knew he had the chance to rectify that mistake.

_Harry...I'm sorry, _He thought desperately, _I'm sorry I let you live with those dreadful muggles; I'm sorry I didn't comfort you that night. Oh, Lily...will you ever forgive me?_

Harry continued to breath fast, and sniffle into a cushion that was on the sofa.

"Here, Potter...drink this," Snape said kindly, lifting Harry's chin up to administer the Calming Draught he had prepared.

"What was that, sir?" Harry asked, feeling himself slowly begin to relax.

"That was some calming drought, Mr Potter. Just relax now..." Seeing Harry yawn and sink further into the bed, Snape realised that Harry wasn't going to be spending the night in his dorm. He therefore transfigured the sofa Harry was on into a bed, and summoned Harry's pyjamas.

"Sir...what if Quirrell let the troll in..." Harry asked worriedly. _The boy is so clever...so unlike most 11 year olds. _

"Don't worry, Potter...you let us deal with that. Why don't you get into your pyjamas and get some rest." At these words, Harry nodded sadly, hoping that Snape wasn't going to leave him.

"No, stay..." He said quietly, once again burying his head into Snape's shoulder. Snape sighed. _Well...it's not like you have much else to lose now Snape, is it? _

"Alright Mr Potter, I'll stay. You get dressed and then I'll come to tuck you in." _Tuck him in?! Snape! I am ashamed of you...oh, be quiet!_

Harry got dressed quickly, and snuggled into the duvet, waiting for Snape.

"Sir...will the troll be able to get in here?" He asked, his voice still slightly shaky.

"No, Potter..."

"What if Quirrell tries to hurt me?!"

"It's okay, Potter..."

"What if my scar hurts!"

"It won't, Potter, I promise..."

"But what if-"

"Harry...I am here. I won't let anything happen to you." _Harry!? Where did that come from?_

Harry noticed Snape's use of his first name, and felt a calm feeling wash through his mind.

"Promise?" Harry asked. _The boy needs so much reassurance...I suppose he's used to getting let down..._Snape thought sadly. He looked directly into Harry's eyes and thought about everything he had ever known up until this point. His love for Lily; his desperate pleas to Dumbledore to keep her safe; Lily's death; his Patronus...All of a sudden, he knew his answer:

"Always," he uttered, knowing that it was true.

**Awww...:P**

**Thanks for reading, as always! Please review :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hi – sorry I've been so slow with updating recently but apparently exams take preference over HP fan fiction...I know, madness :P**

**Anyway...hope you enjoy the chapter :)**

**Disclaimer: Still don't own HP...**

Chapter 12 – Snape and Snitches

When he was sure that Harry was asleep, Snape rose from the side of the bed and made his way into his own room. Just before he turned the light out, he frowned to himself in concentration. A strangely new feeling of responsibility came over him as he realised that Harry actually _needed _him. He knew that 4 months ago he would have never let a student do such a thing as fall asleep on his sofa. But somehow, Harry was different. He was special – not in the way that most fanatical wizards seemed to think – but because he was Lily's son. And he reminded Snape of himself when he was younger: talented, but shy; always a target; and always struggling against his past. It was with these thoughts of his own up-bringing that Snape fell into a deep and uncomfortable sleep.

The next morning, Harry rolled over in his bed and shuffled his body against the duvet, battling with thoughts of the day before which threatened to wake him up. After minutes of tossing and turning, he woke abruptly with returning consciousness, remembering exactly where he was and what had happened.

With a quick gasp he shot out of bed and hurried to throw his robes on, combing his hair with his hands and shoving his glasses on hastily. Within seconds he was dressed, and had flattened out his bed sheets as best he could. _Great...so the one Professor who wants to be nice to me lets me sleep in his quarters and I don't even get up on time! _He thought, rebuking himself as he often did.

Sliding his socks across the slick marble floor for speed, Harry managed to find the kitchen, where he looked around for some sort of fridge, or oven -or indeed any food at all that he could make into breakfast for his Professor. Finding none of these things, he silently cursed to himself, before locating the dining table and a draw filled with cutlery and plates. He resolved to lay the table, setting out just one place and trying to make it to the 'expected' standards.

Just as he had finished, he heard the sound of Snape's bedroom door opening, and he held his breath in apprehension as the potions master began to approach the table.

Thoughts of his Aunt Petunia's rules and expectations were are the forefront of his mind:

(flashback) – _Petunia rapped at the cupboard door harshly, screeching "get up!" to her 'lazy', 'good-for-nothing' freak of a nephew. _

_ From within his cupboard, Harry wiped his face with his hands to remove the groggy feeling of tiredness away, before quickly getting dressed and making his way towards the kitchen. _

_ He went towards the stove and started frying his Aunt and Uncle's breakfast as soon as the hob came to the right heat. He watched the clock as it ticked every second, knowing that it would never be done in time. _

_ "I'm sorry, Aunt Petunia..." Harry said slowly as he placed the breakfast in front of his relatives two minutes later than the rules required. _

_ "Sorry?! Is that all you can say, you good for nothing freak! I let you in my home out of the goodness of our hearts! Do you never learn?"_

_ "He's abnormal, Petunia...I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't even understand you..." contributed Vernon, already tucking in to his large fried breakfast. _

_ "You should know by now that freaks have a duty to serve those who are kind enough to allow you to stay in their home!"_

Those last words swam around Harry's head as Snape came closer. The room felt like it was spinning, and he just knew that Snape would never want to talk to him again after this.

"Potter...what are you doing?" Snape asked, wondering why the boy was standing as though he was a house-elf as opposed to a boy.

"I-I'mm...really sorry, sir. I couldn't find the fridge, or the oven...I'm sorry-"

"What for?" Snape asked, narrowing his eyes and frowning slightly.

"I should have made breakfast by now, I know..."

Snape gave a deep sigh and sat down, telling Harry to do the same. "Foolish child," He said, using 'foolish' as a term of endearment rather than an insult, "you do not have to serve me, or anyone for that matter."

"But Aunt Petunia always said that freaks should serve people who let them stay at their-"

"Harry," _Oh, so now we're back to 'Harry' are we?! _"I thought we'd established that the term 'freak' must never be used to describe yourself. And I believe your Aunt Petunia was wrong. I have allowed you to stay here, and as such I shall provide the breakfast." Snape explained slowly, hoping that Harry could change his mind despite years of conditioning from those ghastly muggle relatives.

Harry thought about this for a while, before smiling slightly and looking up at his professor, "I like it when you call me Harry, sir," he said, testing to see whether Snape would allow such a comment.

Snape's lips threatened to curl dangerously close to a genuine smile, but he stopped himself just in time. "Very well, Harry. If you wish then I will address you as such from now on. Although in lessons you will still be 'Potter', of course."

"Okay, sir," Harry said happily. Even Potter was an improvement from 'freak', so he was very glad at the thought of being called Harry by an adult. Snape saw how much this pleased the boy, and made a mental note to remember to refer to him as 'Harry' from now on, in spite of himself.

Snape called out for a house elf to bring him and Harry some breakfast. Harry giggled at the house elf as it arrived with a tray filled with croissants and fruit and cereal.

"There you is, master." It said, bowing politely as it presented the food. Harry wondered how anything so strange looking could have cooked so well, but the food had evidently been prepared by a very skilled cook – certainly better than himself.

"Thank you very much," he said to the elf, who seemed to look incredibly surprised at the gesture.

"You is very welcome, very welcome indeed!" It chirped, wide eyed with a big smile. It winked in a friendly manner at Harry, before clicking its fingers and leaving.

"I like house elves..." Harry said to Snape, who simply rolled his eyes and nodded, saying "indeed" more to acknowledge that Harry had spoken than to agree with the statement. The two started eating. Harry waited until Snape had completely served himself, before taking his queue to begin on his own plate.

"How are you feeling lately, Harry?" Snape asked once all the breakfast had been eaten.

"What do you mean, sir?" Was Harry's confused reply. He wasn't sick; he had slept well; and he wasn't hurt. What did the professor mean?

"Well, Harry. A lot has changed for you lately; coming to Hogwarts and so forth. I just want to make sure that you are coping well with the changes?"

"Oh..." Harry said, unsure how to proceed. It had all been so busy and time-consuming that he hadn't considered just how much had changed. On one hand, he had Professor Snape, and friends, and a bed, and a great school. Not to mention that he was actually a wizard! But on the other hand, it seemed that he was constantly in danger. The fact that his scar hurt now and then, and he had somehow survived Voldemort's curse, frightened him greatly. After pondering Snape's question for about thirty seconds, he answered "I'm glad I'm not at the Dursleys' house anymore."

Snape noticed the tactful reply, but decided not to press Harry further that morning. He could fully appreciate how difficult change was to anyone, especially with the upbringing Harry had endured. He just hoped that he could make Hogwarts as safe and enjoyable as it was for Lily. He certainly didn't want Harry to have his experiences ever.

The two talked a little more about potions and homework, and even Quidditch, before Snape decided that it was time for Harry to go to his lessons.

"Harry, just one more thing," Snape began seriously before he let Harry leave, "no one can know that I allowed you to stay here. Nor can anyone know that I...care about you..." Snape forced those last words out as though he had never said them before in his life.

_Snape said he cares about me!? He is the nicest man in the world! But why can't anyone else know?! _"Sir...why, exactly, shouldn't I tell anyone?" He asked tentatively. A few months ago he would have never dreamt about questioning a rule, but he trusted Snape enough to try.

_Because I'm head of Slytherin! Because Draco Malfoy would report it to his father! Because I'm a bloody Death Eater for Merlin's Sake! _Snape wanted to tell Harry everything, knowing that he would have to explain some day. But reluctantly he forced his thoughts to the back of his mind and replied, "I think it would be easier for us both if you weren't seen to be receiving any special attention from me. Harry...I want you to know that I do care...I-I may have to be angry during lessons, but it's not real. Well, unless you give me any real reason to be cross, of course. But you know better than that," At this, Snape gave a friendly smirk before continuing, "It could be like a secret game..." He suggested, hoping that Harry wasn't too old to fall for such an incentive.

Harry considered this, before smiling and nodding to show that he understood. "Okay, sir." He affirmed, making his way to the door to leave. Snape watched him go and sighed deeply, cursing himself for ever letting Harry bloody Potter become something he cared about.

A few days later, Harry stepped out onto the official Hogwarts quidditch pitch for the first time with Oliver Wood.

"Now, Potter...I'm guessing you know the basic rules?" Wood asked, opening a rather lively chest of quidditch balls.

"Yeah, Ron told me..." Harry replied, thinking back to his first conversation with his best friend. He then began to explain all that he already knew; about quaffles, and snitches, and wronski feints, and everything else Ron had described.

"Good. So, then, it's up to me to teach you the rest!" Wood said cheerfully. He took out a bat and handed it to Harry, before releasing a bludger as carefully as he could manage. The little cannon-ball shaped bludger shot into the air and flew around as though it'd been trapped in the chest its whole life, before remembering its role and shooting back down towards Oliver and Harry. "Okay now, Potter...nice tight grip on the bat and just swing straight through..." Wood demonstrated the basic motion just in time for Harry to replicate it as he whacked the bludger back through the air.

"Was that okay?!" Harry asked with excitement, secretly admiring his shot.

Wood raised his eyebrows to show that he was impressed, "Not bad, Potter! You'd make a fair Beater...oh damn..." he added as he saw the bludger flying straight back towards him. He put his hands out to protect his stomach and wrestled the wriggling ball back into its compartment within the chest. "Few...nasty little buggers, them..." he said through gritted teeth, before taking out the slightly calmer looking quaffle.

For a while, Harry and Oliver passed the quaffle between them, until Wood decided that Harry could have ago on a broom. Together, they mounted their Clean Sweeps and flew into the air, making their way towards three tall hoops at one end of the pitch.

"Now, Potter. As Keeper, it's my job to stop the quaffle getting past these hoops. Scoring a goal gives a team 10 points, you see. You try throwing, and I'll block you!" He instructed, shouting through the air so that he could be heard. Harry nodded and took a deep breath. He was nervous at the thought of playing against a boy who was a good few years older. But Wood seemed to be nice enough, and after an encouraging smile from the fifth year, Harry made his first shot. Wood blocked it easily, but was nevertheless impressed at Harry's attempt.

When Harry had practised enough, the two touched down once more and returned the quaffle to the chest. Oliver then took out a tiny golden ball that Harry recognised to be the Golden Snitch.

"Wow..." Harry breathed, looking in awe at the little ball as it stretched out its wings and began to flutter in front of him.

"Ha..you like it now," Wood laughed, "they're deadly fast and difficult to catch. Which is why your job is to focus entirely on trying to find the snitch. You catch the snitch, Potter, the game ends, and we gain 150 points. In short; catch the snitch, and we win."

"But...what happens if I don't catch it?" Harry asked, the doubt beginning to set in.

"Well, that's the beauty of Quidditch. There's no time limit...the game goes on until the snitch is caught. But, of course, the longer the game is played, the more goals the teams score. In professional Quidditch, teams have been known to win on goals alone, even if the opposition catch the snitch. But that's rare at Hogwarts," Wood explained, hoping he hadn't put too much pressure on his new Seeker. He was still slightly sceptical of McGonagall's decision, and wanted to impress upon the first year the importance of winning. Nevertheless, make him too nervous and Harry wouldn't be any good. "So, Potter. Want to give it a go?"

"Okay!" Harry said positively, determined to prove to Wood that he could do it. With that, Wood released the snitch high into the air, and Harry automatically began to follow on his broom, looping and weaving and diving in every possible direction in order to keep to the snitch's trail. After about ten minutes of flying, Harry extended an arm and with a quick dip of his broom to the left he caught the fluttering snitch, which dropped its wings and lay still and obedient in his palm.

"I did it, Wood!" He called out, sounding more like a five year old than a Hogwarts student. Wood rolled his eyes at Harry's youthful sense of achievement, but couldn't deny that what he had seen was certainly impressive.

"Wow, Potter," He said to Harry as he touched down, "Do that during the match and we're sure to win! Just be careful with those dives!" He advised, knowing the penalty of showing off on a broom.

An ominous feeling of doubt came over Harry. "Wood...is Quidditch dangerous?" He asked with concern.

"You can say that! I can barely remember my first game; took a bludger to the head...woke up in the hospital wing a week later! It's okay though...I don't think anyone's actually died in years," He laughed flippently, and gathered the chest together before walking back to the castle. "Don't worry, Potter...you'll be fine!" He called out from over his shoulder.

Harry laughed weakly and nodded, with a familiar feeling of dread sitting in his stomach.

**Thanks for reading! And thanks for the reviews...please keep giving me your feedback and stuff, it's really appreciated :)**

**And yeah tell me when you'd like the updates because I will realistically be able to do them either every 2 days or every other day...but some may be a little late ;Px**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hi :)**

**As always, I really appreciate the reviews so thank you so much! :D Please keep doing so :P**

**A few people have been saying that I've been writing Harry as a bit of a 'whimp'. Unfortunately, Hurt/Comfort genre kind of dictates that this will be the case, so if the genre isn't your thing then this entire fic probably isn't either ;P But I'll try to reign in the over-sensitive stuff from now on...especially once Harry is more comfortable around Snape :)x**

**Disclaimer: Needless to say, I still don't own Harry Potter – Jo Rowling is forever the owner and creator of the entire series :)**

Chapter 13 – Revenge is a dish best served by magic

"Headmaster...a word...about Potter" Was Snape's simple introduction as he swept into the room. Dumbledore chuckled behind his glasses; he had rather expected a visit of this nature soon.

"Was is it, my dear man?" He enquired more out of social obligation than necessity.

_What does he bloody think it is?! _"About the fact that someone let a troll into the school in order to try to reach the stone! Or, had you forgotten, Albus?" Snape explained himself with an exasperated tone. Albus remained unaffected by Severus' confrontational manner, and merely nodded in understanding, before taking a seat behind his desk and gesturing for the potions master to do the same on an opposite chair.

"You believe this is related to Harry?" Albus asked, hoping to bring the conversation around to his own choice of topic as soon as possible.

Not picking up on this, Snape rolled his eyes in disbelief. "How could it not be?! If the Dark L..." Snape quickly corrected himself, "You Know Who could know about the stone he would surely stop at nothing to get his hands on it. As for Quirrell's involvement in all this, I fail to see how you can ignore recent events." Snape finished, hoping his voice was remaining as level as it usually was.

"Believe me, Severus. I have not ignored anything. In fact, I was just thinking myself that it might be safer for Harry to spend Christmas with a teacher, seeing as he's evidently unsafe at Hogwarts – especially without his friends who are both returning home. After all, I dare say Harry will no longer be returning to the Dursleys. So a teacher seems the only real option."

Snape was intrigued by the headmaster's words, almost forgetting the stone in favour of thinking about Harry. _Perhaps I could...no, Snape! Don't be ridiculous! It's one thing to care about the brat; but it's another to actually look after over Christmas! Oh Snape...give it up will you?!_

Dumbledore saw Snape go quiet and knew exactly why. He smiled to himself, hoping that finally he would have the chance to correct the mistake he made on the day he left Harry with those muggles. As for Quirrell and the troll, he was indeed concerned; but knew that no harm could come of it so long as the stone was protected.

"Who do you have in mind, Albus?" Snape asked, feigning an off-hand manner as though he could barely care less.

"Well, Severus. Obviously it must be someone I can trust; someone Harry knows and feels comfortable with; someone brave and kind...of course."

Up until Albus' last words, Snape had been sure the headmaster was referring to him. But brave and kind? _Great! So the boy will be spending Christmas with that bloody cat?! Minerva McGonagall: brave, kind, trustworthy...yet again I will spend Christmas alone without even Harry bloody Potter to care about..._

By the time he had thought through the headmaster's explanation of his choice, Snape was so sure it wasn't going to be him that he practically jumped out of his seat at the next thing Dumbledore said: "Which is why I have decided that you, Severus, should have Harry to stay over Christmas...if you don't mind, that is?"

"Of course!...I mean...if that's your decision, then I suppose I could suffer the brat's company for just a few weeks...if I absolutely must...although he better behave...and don't think he'll be getting any extra attention..." Snape remembered himself, reeling out the fabricated protests even though he knew it wouldn't work against Albus Dumbledore. After all, with all that had happened recently, he was taking any piece of dignity he could get!

Dumbledore chuckled once more, pushing thoughts of Quirrell, Voldemort and the stone temporarily to the back of his mind.

Snape reached out his left hand to shake Albus', but as he did so a shudder of remorse and sadness came over him that made him draw back his arm. As he had extended his wrist, he had looked down to where the Dark Mark was engrained into his skin underneath his sleeve, and knew that he could not bear to lie to Lily's son.

"I can't, Albus." He said solemnly. This time, there was no hint of false pretences or denial. Dumbledore could see in the man's expression that there was clearly something troubling his Professor.

"Severus, whatever it is...you know that I trust you, and you can trust me too." He said, much the same way as Snape had spoken to Harry.

"He needs to know..." Snape began, looking down to avoid the old man's gaze, "He needs to know that I am a Death Eater; that I was best friends with Malfoy; he should know how I gave You Know Who the prophecy; how I'm responsible for Lily's and James' death..."

"-and, Severus, how brave you were for coming to see me. How you didn't know of the prophecy's significance; how Malfoy manipulated you into becoming something I know you're not," Albus said sincerely, hoping that he could get through to the self-deprecating man who sat before him. Severus said nothing, but looked up slightly to meet Albus' eyes. "Severus. If you wish me to speak to Harry then I will. But don't let this get in the way of your life. Don't make the mistake I did..."

_Don't make the mistake he did?! What for Merlin's sake was that supposed to mean? _

_ The mistake I made when I didn't leave Harry with you in the first place. _Dumbledore thought, as though replying to Snape's own thoughts.

"But what if the boy doesn't want to spend Christmas with me? Besides, I don't know how to look after a child! Why do I even care about the brat?!" Snape said, dropping all pride in order to express the doubts that were threatening to send him mad.

Dumbledore noticed Snape's use of the phrase "Why do I even care" as opposed to "why should I even care", but decided not to press Severus on the issue. Instead, he breathed a fatherly sigh of responsibility, and reassured, "Harry has a wonderful ability to trust even when he has endured his Aunt and Uncle's methods of bringing him up. I have no reason to doubt that, like me, he will see the true Severus Snape, given the chance. As for your other two doubts, I believe you may have answered that yourself. If you care about Lily's son, you will be about to look after him."

"Fine..." Said Snape in his usual Slytherin way, not liking the insinuation that all of a sudden he was a caring, kind and trustworthy person – even though he knew this deep down.

"Now, Severus, don't worry about that for now. I promise I will have a word with young Harry. Actually, my dear man, there was something else that I wished to speak to you about." Dumbledore said, making eye contact through his half-moon spectacles and trying to lift Snape's spirits.

"Oh?" He said, thoroughly annoyed that the old man's insensitive optimism. _Does the old idiot with too many names actually think this is easy for me?! Does he think I want to care about that bloody boy who lived? But you do...don't you Severus? What? Oh, shut up, everyone! _Equally annoyed with himself as he was with Dumbledore, Snape resolved to just give in to everything and looked up at the headmaster, who's eyes were still twinkling wildly.

"Yes, Severus. Actually, it involves Minerva too," barely had he said these words when McGonagall came briskly into the room with her velvet green robes tailing behind her. "Ah...speak of the devil...or cat I should say..." Dumbledore chuckled, greeting McGonagall with his routine offering of a lemon sherbet. "Now, there is the little matter of the Dursleys that I wished to...discuss with you both," Albus said simply, noticing the looks of joy come over the professors' faces at the thought of revenge, quickly masked by neutral professionalism.

"You mean you wish us to go to Number 4?" McGonagall asked hopefully.

"I do indeed, Minivera. Right now, in fact!" Dumbledore replied, eager to finally be rid of the ghastly muggles that he had subjected Harry to for 10 years too long, "there is of course the issue of magic in front of muggles, but I believe the ministry and I could...make an exception to the rule in the circumstances..." Dumbledore said with a smile, not wishing to deny his professors their chance to show the Dursleys just how much Harry meant to them. Not to mention that he quite liked the idea of the Dursleys getting a taste of their own medicine.

The inhabitants of Privet Drive were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. Particularly so, the inhabitants of Number 4, who appeared to be so extremely normal that they actually seemed to attract rather a lot of attention. Every neighbour or passer by would peer nosily into their normal garden, observing their normal kitchen window and normal car; each person trying to work out what it was that the Dursleys had to hide that would make them determined to appear so incredibly normal! Of course, not one of them suspected that Petunia Dursley was the sister of a witch; nor that the witch's son – a famous wizard – had been living there for nearly 10 years.

In fact, even Petunia herself had managed to push these facts far from her mind, and ever since Harry had been taken away to Hogwarts, she had gone out of her way to make sure nothing at all changed and no one suspected a thing. They told their neighbours that Harry had been sent to a special boarding school for troubled boys. A lie Vernon himself had made up. And Dudley received the same treatment as ever. Their lives had carried on completely as normal, almost forgetting that Harry had ever existed.

That is to say, until a rather angry pair of Professors turned up on their 'normal' doorstep.

For dramatic effect more than anything, McGonagall had decided to arrive in her cat form, with Snape dressed in the most black and swooping robes he owned. With a flick of his wand, Snape rang the doorbell, relishing in the use of magic in a muggle environment. A familiar, but much older face emerged:

"Yes? What can I...oh-" Petunia snapped, before realising who she was talking to. Her eyes looked up in growing horror as she saw the face of her old childhood enemy Severus Snape. The one Lily had been so fixated upon. Freaks in her opinion, the lot of them.

"Hello, Tuney..." Snape smirked in his most deprecating voice, watching with secret glee as Petunia's face grew pale and pinched. "May I come in?"

Of course, Petunia was about to shut the door in the potion master's face, but as she reached to do so Severus made the entire door frame shake with menace, without even the use of his wand. A heavy breeze washed through Number 4, sending papers and even picture frames flying. With a resigned sense of defeat, Petunia snapped her hand back towards her and said "Very well," trying to spit out the words, but sounding more terrified than annoyed. "But first of all you can get that disgusting animal off my doorstep!" She was referring to the tabby who was eyeing her intensely.

At Mrs Dursley's words, Minerva took her cue to transform elegantly into her witch form, with a tight bun, dark green robes and a very pointy witch's hat. This produced a quick yelp from Petunia, followed by a frantic muttering of something inaudible under her breath. Without saying any more, she entered her house, knowing the two professors would follow – which they did.

"I suppose this is about the boy..." She said in a voice full of resentment.

"You mean Harry Potter? He is your nephew, Tuney...I am sure the use of his name isn't beyond even you." Snape said dryly. McGonagall gave a sharp smile at the potions master, enjoying the look of terror on Petunia's face. "And yes...of course that is why we are here." Snape added to resolve the matter.

"Well, I don't know what you want from me. I did what I did, and have nothing more to say," Petunia said simply, knowing that it wasn't enough.

"Is that so?" Asked a thick and angry scottish accent, "Then perhaps you can explain why Harry didn't know that he was a wizard; that he didn't receive his letter?!"

"We swore we'd put a stop to all that nonsense when we took the freak in!" Petunia retorted, letting her voice squeak as she practically bounced on her feet.

"And that also gave you the right to treat the child like he was a servant, did it?" Snape asked, so menacingly quietly that Petunia physically shivered, "_and_ perhaps it also allowed you to beat him, shout at him; abuse him?!" Snape stopped and breathed before he got ahead of himself, and met the gaze of McGonagall to collect his thoughts.

"What's all the...?" Mr Dursley stopped in his tracks as he saw the 'guests' in his living room. He had just got home from work and was still wearing his normal business suit; the keys to his normal car in his normal, if a little chubby, hand. "Petunia...what the devil is going on?!" He whispered harshly towards his wife, who attempted to explain with her eyes but failed.

"They're here about the boy," she hissed, "just do as they say..." She hoped Snape hadn't picked up on that last comment, but of course he did. Eager to question Vernon more about the punishments, he proceeded:

"It has come to my attention that you, Vernon, used severe and unethical punishments towards Harry, with absolutely no justification," Snape said with such conviction that Vernon didn't even try to come up with a fabricated justification. "You don't deny it?" He drawled in his most Slytherin voice.

Minvera recognised the potion professor's tone and could barely wait to see what was coming next. Petunia and Vernon merely shook their heads, too afraid and defeated to argue.

"Well, then..." Snape hissed, practically talking down the back of the muggles' necks, "seeing as you are so fond of corporal punishment, you won't object to what I have in mind."

Petunia's eyes widened, and then widened even further as she watched Severus draw out his slick black wand with a dangerous look in his eye.

"But...you're not allowed to do magic in front of wizards..." She said, more as a hopeful question than a statement of fact.

"These are exceptional circumstances, Dursely," Minerva explained with disdain.

"So it's settled then," Snape resolved matter-of-factly, drawing his wand high in front of him and thinking up all of the wonderful spells he could use. Eventually, he had an idea. "Densaugio," he uttered, watching the teeth of both muggles growing so long they ended below their chins. "Anteoculatia" he said next, watching antlers sprout on both their heads.

McGonagall caught on and continued: "Engorgio skullus! Colloshoo!" The two professors continued in this way, each coming up with a hundred hexes they could use to make the muggles look as abnormal as possible. Vernon and Petunia protested greatly as they developed more and more grotesque features, such as swollen heads and legs that stuck together.

"Stop sir. Stop I say!" Vernon shouted despairingly. Snape and McGonagall didn't relent until they had practically exhausted their repertoire of embarrassing jinxes and hexes.

"There..." Snape stopped finally, the room returning once more to the quiet, "Now you will know exactly what it is like to be made to feel like a 'freak' day in and day out. Harry Potter is _not _a freak, and if you cannot see that then there is something very wrong with you – not him."

Snape knew that was enough, and decided it was time to leave. Minerva followed suit, satisfied that justice had been served. The spells would wear off in a few weeks – enough time for the Dursleys to repent, but not enough to cause any lasting damage. After all, they didn't want to stoop to their standard of punishment.

Snape swished his robes as he left, causing the room to shake once more with a vast gust of wind as all the papers and photo frames returned to their original position. McGonagall slickly transformed back into a cat. Both professors left silently, leaving Privet Drive as they had come. The only difference being that now Number 4 was certainly not normal at all; not that it ever had been.

**Revenge! Haha...thanks for reading :P Please let me know what you thought...:)**

**Also, as Chapter 18 will see the start of Christmas for Snape and Harry, I was wondering if anyone had requests for what the two might get up to?! If so, tell me in the reviews...:D**


	14. Chapter 14

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**Sorry for the lateness of this update...exams and all that unfortunately have to be prioritised over fanfiction :/**

**Disclaimer: I don't own HP or the wizarding world. Never have done, never will :P**

**Enjoy...**

Chapter 14 – An Even More Sensitive Discussion

Harry approached the ornate spiral staircase that led up to Professor Dumbledore's office timidly, taking a deep breath and looking down once more at his note. The note simply said:

_Dear Harry,_

_Please come to see me in my office._

_Have a splendid day!_

_Professor Dumbledore. _

_PS. Sherbet Lemon._

As no time was given, nor any particular reasoning, Harry had waited for lessons to finish that day before making his way there.

Like the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, the gargoyle required a password in order to allow Harry access to the Headmaster's tower. Now realising what the PS of Dumbledore's note had meant, Harry spoke the words "Sherbet Lemon" loudly and clearly, as though any slight mis-pronunciation would annoy the gargoyle and prevent him from entering. As soon as he had finished speaking, the gargoyle gave a reluctant shudder, before turning in a spiral motion, taking the stair case with it.

"Wait!" Harry yelped, jumping onto the stairs as they spiralled higher into the headmaster's tower. The gargoyle seemed completely nonplussed – or as nonplussed as a gargoyle can manage to look – as it carried on regardless of the fact that Harry had very nearly missed the chance to come with it. "Thanks...I guess..." Harry said begrudgingly, hopping onto a small platform that lay directly in front of the threshold to Dumbledore's office. _Well, here goes..._

"Ahh, Harry, my boy!" Came Dumbledore's jovial cry that sent Harry practically jumping out of his skin the moment he entered the room.

"Hello, Professor," He uttered quietly, swallowing deeply to suppress his shock.

"Lemon sherbet?" Dumbledore offered, oblivious to Harry's discomfort. Relaxing slightly, for the headmaster evidently meant well, Harry politely accepted the familiar muggle sweet and tried sucking on it, hoping his eyes weren't watering too obviously as the sharp sweet stuck to his tongue and fizzed sourly.

Slightly taken-aback, for he wasn't used to people actually taking a sweet, Albus took his seat once more and allowed Harry to sit in the opposite one. _Severus was right...Harry is so shy and polite for his age... _Dumbledore thought, watching Harry force the lemon sherbet down without saying a word in protest.

"Now, Harry," Dumbledore began, making sure he had Harry's full attention, "I wish to speak to you about a rather...delicate matter. I hope you are fully awake and ready to listen?"

"Yes, sir," Harry confirmed. He liked that the headmaster was being so nice – and he called him 'Harry' without having to be asked. However, he somehow just didn't feel the same level of safety as he did with Snape. He knew he liked Professor Dumbledore, but it was hard to feel completely comfortable around a man who was liable to chuckle at anything and offer disgusting muggle sweets to anyone who so much as entered the room.

"Well then, do so with great attention," Albus said, and continued thus:

"You remember what Hagrid told you about Voldemort, and the fact that he gave you your scar on the same night that he...murdered your parents?" Harry nodded, "Well, Professor Snape has asked me to explain the facts more fully. I am sure you have a thousand questions, but let me explain and then you can ask what you wish once I have finished.

"Firstly, you must remember that the first great war was a dark time, Harry. Filled with spies, and Voldemort's followers, called Death Eaters. There was the dark side – Voldemort's side – and the light side – my side if you will. Your parents were part of the light side, in a group called The Order of the Phoenix.

"But I suppose if I am to tell this story properly, I should start at the beginning, with Tom Riddle, Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy, and the Marauders."

Harry lapped up the information with great curiosity, so eager to find out the truth after years of lies from the Dursleys. He nodded politely to show that he was paying attention, not wishing to interrupt Dumbledore for more than a second.

"The Marauders in Gryffindor – your father being one of them. He and his friends used to get into all sorts of mischief, truth be told!" Dumbledore chuckled, "I was a professor at the time, and remember them well. Your father was very fond of your mother, Lily, even back then. And so was Professor Snape, although I am sure he can tell you more about that than I can," Dumbledore said simply, not wanting to go into too much detail of Snape's love life, "the three of them used to have all kinds of troubles, but Lily always had I soft spot for Professor Snape. You see, like you Harry, Professor Snape had a harsh childhood," Albus explained seriously, "and it wasn't made any easier at Hogwarts, I am afraid to say.

"Eventually, Professor Snape became rather defensive, to protect himself from other students who were a little too insensitive to understand him. He was vulnerable, Harry, you must see that." Harry nodded again, sincerely understanding what it was like to be struggling against a difficult childhood. He felt a sudden connection with Snape that began to explain why he felt safe around him. It was as though the two empathised with each other in a way no one else could.

Dumbledore continued: "Things began to get rather hard for Professor Snape, as his classmate Lucius Malfoy took advantage of his vulnerability. He persuaded him to join the dark side, which at the time originated with a boy named Tom Riddle. Tom Riddle, now known as Lord Voldemort, wanted to rid the world of muggle born wizards. He believed that only Pure Blood wizarding families are worthy of magic.

"As the years progressed into war, Voldemort's magic power rose; as did his power of manipulation. Professor Snape became a Death Eater, and served Voldemort. By this time, he had little choice. He was trapped; and it is terribly difficult to leave once Voldemort has you in his clutches," Albus explained carefully, not wanting to brush over this fact but imploring Harry to understand that Snape was about as far from a Death Eater as it was possible to be with a Dark Mark on your left wrist.

"After months of war, Voldemort got word of a Prophecy, which told of one boy who was destined to defeat him,"

"Me?" Harry couldn't help but ask, knowing the label of The Boy Who Lived too well by now.

"Yes, Harry. You. What Professor Snape wanted me to tell you was that..." Albus cleared his throat to prepare Harry, "he gave Lord Voldemort the prophecy. In effect, he told Voldemort to kill your parents, and to attempt to kill you."

Harry drew a sharp breath at the headmaster's brutal honesty and tried to process the information. Sensing a natural break in the conversation, he decided that it would be okay to ask a few questions:

"Did Professor Snape want to give Voldemort the prophecy? Did he know it was about me? And will I really defeat Voldemort?" Harry asked all at once, afraid that if he stopped then he would miss his chance. Dumbledore chuckled at the way Harry spoke, but showed he was taking things seriously with his eyes.

"No, Harry. Snape had no choice but to give Voldemort the prophecy; and he did not know who it was about. It merely spoke of a _boy born to those who have thrice defied him; born as the seven month dies...and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal..."_ Dumbledore recited, hoping that Harry wouldn't need a further explanation of the rather ambiguous prophecy, which he did not. "As for the truth of the prophecy, Harry, I honestly do not know. But I would ask that you do not worry about it any further."

Harry nodded quietly, feeling himself get paler. He was shaking slightly, having not been at all prepared for such an overload of information.

"So...what happened next?" He asked weakly. Seeing Harry's change in behaviour, Dumbledore placed a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder and replied:

"Professor Snape came to me straight away. He told me what had happened, and begged me to do everything possible to protect Lily, James, and of course you, Harry."

At these words, Harry raised his chin a little and smiled slightly.

"I did just that, naturally. The fact that it wasn't enough is something Professor Snape and I, and you of course Harry, will have to live with forever...

"Professor Snape finally told me the mess he was in, and I allowed him to become a spy for the light side. You see, Snape was scared; more terrified than I've ever seen a man," Dumbledore almost forgot he was talking to Harry as he voiced his thoughts, "But I knew that his intentions were never bad. I gave him trust, and in turn he was brave and careful. He showed me how easily mistakes can be made, and how being too quick to pass judgement is never a good idea. People have doubted me, Harry. You can imagine: I let a Death Eater spy for me, give him a home and a place here at Hogwarts...some think I'm a mad old fool. The question is, do you?" Albus peered through his half-moon spectacles and waiting for Harry's answer.

Harry thought for a second, trying to relay the information to himself before replying. _So Professor Snape is a spy! And he s helping the light side, which are fighting against Voldemort. And he knows what it's like to be bullied and have a difficult childhood – like me... And he tried to protect my parents even though Voldemort would have... _Harry's thoughts trailed off, not wanting to think what Voldemort would have done exactly. All he knew was that Snape was probably the bravest man he'd ever come across.

"Of course not, sir," Harry said earnestly, "Professor Snape tried to _protect_ me and my parents; he had no choice but to give Voldemort the prophecy," He explained, as though to verify that he had got everything right as well as to allay the headmaster's fears that he was a 'mad old fool'.

Dumbledore nodded in relief and smiled with heartfelt admiration for Harry's maturity and ability to trust. When he had nodded enough to make Harry sure he'd said the right thing, Dumbledore drew breath in curiosity. "You know, Harry, not many people like to use Voldemort's name. They fear it..." He spoke as a statement, hoping that Harry would take this as more of a question and explain.

"I don't see why a name should be feared," Harry unknowingly obliged, "Surely fear of something is up to the beholder? If we fear a name, then that name _becomes _something to fear. We give it power, and then it's like a self fulfilling prophecy," Harry said as though thinking aloud. Simply amazed at the 11 year old's mature grasp of such a concept, Dumbledore merely nodded for yet another time, eyes twinkling ferociously.

"You are a very clever boy, Harry Potter. Remember that." Dumbledore said with honesty.

A silence swept through the room at this point; neither person knowing what to say next. It seemed everything had been said. Harry now knew the truth, and it was as though so much relief had now filled the room that there was no space left for questioning or even talking.

Harry sat on his chair and swung his legs, thinking quietly about Professor Snape and Malfoy. He thought back to the first time he had met Draco; how if it hadn't been for Ron already filling the position, he may have been persuaded to make friends. After all, he knew as well as Snape did the horrors of being alone and afraid, without anyone to share things with. In that situation, even a Malfoy seems better than nothing at all.

_Professor Snape had my mum, and then she left and he had no one to turn to except for Lucius... _Harry thought sadly. He couldn't help but wonder if Snape's harsh and bat-like exterior all stemmed from his resentment of James Potter. He quickly shook his head of that thought, not wanting to think of his father in such a way. Instead, a question dawned on him to break the silence:

"Sir...why exactly did Professor Snape want me to know all of this?" Harry asked with an overly inquisitive tone to his voice, reminding Albus of just how young the boy really was.

"Ahh, Harry," He chuckled with his voice returning back to its jovial and light-hearted chime, "I believe that is something you will have to discuss with the man himself!" He said, not wanting to spoil the moment for Severus when he could tell Harry about the Christmas arrangements. "Now, if you have no further questions then perhaps you should be getting back to the Gryffindor common room before Filch starts chiding me for allowing students to be out of bed so late..."

Harry, suddenly aware of the time as he saw the darkening sky through Dumbledore's office window, nodded in agreement and hopped down from his chair, his legs still jelly-like from the recent discussion. He said good bye politely to the headmaster, and made his way back down the gargoyle staircase, this time being careful to hold onto the railings.

The next morning, Severus Snape woke in his quarters with a strangely consuming feeling of relief filling his thoughts. It seemed as though a thousand weights of hardship and resentment were suddenly lifted at the news that Harry Potter had accepted him. Dumbledore, the ever trusting, ever eccentric old man had been right yet again: the boy was as trusting as he was brave.

With a look of concentration that only came from a feeling deep inside a person's depths of mind, Snape racked his brain for a reason. A reason why the boy mattered; why being accepted by an eleven year old boy meant infinitely more than the acceptance of Albus, or Minerva, some of the greatest wizards the world had seen.

_Because he's Lily's child._

The words kept repeating themselves like it was the most obvious thing in the world. And yet a part of Snape began to think that it was more than this. Harry was Lily's child. Even that much made him the most important child alive in Snape's view. But there was something else; something that made Snape feel the relief he had longed for ever since that dreadful night.

_You, Severus..._A thought came from the back of his mind as though it was a separate voice. _Ever since Lily died and Potter lived you have been too frightened and remorseful to remember who you are. You have been too afraid to accept that it might not have been all your fault. Because you know that once your are forgiven, you will have nothing to hide behind, and everything to lose. _Snape blinked his eyes rapidly in a sort of dismissive gesture, as though to keep his brain from talking any more.

_But now Harry Potter has forgiven you, _the voice continued regardless, _and so you don't have to hide, do you Severus? Because the boy needs you...and trusts you..._

_ All this time, you were assuming that the hate and loneliness would continue regardless. You didn't stop to think that the forgiveness and acceptance might change that..._

_ Oh, right...because you're so clever – you've got it all figured out, have you?! _Snape retaliated as if this was a conversation and not his own mind. He resented the idea that it was simply his own inability to think and reason that had caused his life to be one of loneliness and hardship. He had been beaten, abused, and saw the love of his life die at his own hands...or near enough, in his eyes.

Snape rubbed his face roughly with his hands and breathed a deep sigh of frustration. Deciding that his thoughts would be better off left alone to sort themselves out, he shook his head numbly and decided to get ready for the day, taking extra care and attention to each button as he dressed. He slipped on his shoes slowly, buckling them with delicate precision. He lit the fire with slow, deliberate movements, and drank his spiced tea in silent sips.

He wanted to think of nothing. All his life, he had tried to block out the things around him. He had tried to counter his thoughts with little internal retaliations and come-backs. He sometimes recited odd spells or stories or passages from Potions texts – anything to take his mind off his true emotions. Now they were swimming frantically at the forefront of his mind, threatening to change into something new and wild.

In this moment, with a pale, blank, expressionless face and impeccably neat robes, Snape rose to his steady feet and decided to do something he had only done once before.

He walked silently and purposefully, the feeling of empty relief still residing in his chest like a song that he couldn't get out of his head. It had been nice, welcome even, but now he wanted something more familiar.

Not even realising how, Snape reached Dumbledore's office and entered.

"Severus, what is it, my dear man?" Dumbledore asked cautiously. He had expected a visit of this nature; the man had lived with hate and resentment for 11 years – more than that – and now suddenly he didn't know how to feel.

"Albus...I..." _Crying, Snape!? Really?! The dark old bat of the dungeons is crying on the shoulder of Albus bloody Dumbledore?! _

_ Severus? Severus Snape! Oh...what the hell..._

Snape gave up as he allowed himself shed a few reluctant into the open arms of Albus Dumbledore. After what seemed like an age, Severus allowed his face to emerge and he quickly cleaned himself without saying a word, closing his eyes at the sensation of the spell. Dumbledore gave his Professor a fatherly look of reassurance and sat down in his desk chair. Snape knew to sit opposite, composing himself for the first time that day.

"Albus, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me..." He said plainly, willing his voice not to shake. In a wash of remorse and heartache a part of his true feeling came back to him. Dumbledore knew that it was going to be a long way before Snape could ever consider letting go of his past completely. In fact, he knew that a part of him never would. But one thing was certain: over-thinking wasn't going to help.

"Severus, there's nothing to apologise about. You don't have to feel happy, or sad, or anything in between. In fact, you don't _have _to feel anything at all. Although I would implore you to not be so harsh on yourself, my dear man. It will do no good. After all, I have nothing but admiration for you as you know, and as such I can see how brave you are. Perhaps if you did the same, things would be a little easier," He suggested, firmly but in a soft and kind voice.

Dumbledore's words made Snape feel a little better, but there was still a desire for some sort of distraction. It seemed that Albus sensed this, for his next words provided just that.

"I believe young Harry will be playing his first official Quidditch match soon, Severus. I don't doubt he'd appreciate something a little faster than an old Clean Sweep..."

Snape eyed the smiling headmaster thankfully and stood, knowing exactly what to do. He stepped into the fireplace of Dumbledore's office and said 'Diagon Alley' clearly, checking he had enough money for Quality Quidditch Supplies in his robes. Before the flames could lick past his face and smother him in light, Snape met the gaze of Albus Dumbledore one last time, and smiled a weak but genuine smile.

**Thanks for reading ;)**

**I know that got a little sweet and stuff but it's so nice to write Snape's less defensive side :D**

**Please review of course! **


	15. Chapter 15

**Hello :P**

**New chapter at last! Sorry it's taken so long...exams and all that ;P But yeah I'll try to update more regularly from now on.**

**The last few have been a little angsty I know, so this one's a bit more light hearted, but still plenty of Snape looking out for Harry of course :)**

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned Harry Potter and the Wizarding World, but sadly I do not :/**

**Please review!**

Chapter 15 – Speculations and a Nimbus 2000

"So wait a minute. There's a thing – we don't know what – being guarded – we don't know why – here at Hogwarts. By a three headed dog. On the third floor. And it has something to do with Vault 713." Ron clarified for the thousandth time, counting off the facts on his fingers to Hermione and Harry as the three ate the breakfast in the Great Hall.

It was a few days after the troll had been let into the dungeons and Harry had learnt about Snape's past. It had been a difficult load of information to process for everyone involved, but after just a few days filled with lessons and essays, things were quickly resolved. Harry was enjoying his new friendship with Hermione having saved her from the troll, and was excited to find out what Snape had to speak to him about.

"Exactly," Confirmed Hermione, "In fact, it's almost certainly guarding that package from Vault 713-"

"Which was small and round-" Interjected Harry.

"-and so probably very valuable if they'd go through all that trouble to guard something so small." Concluded Ron, eyes widening at the thought of a hundred valuable things the package could be!

"Right! And we know that Hagrid knows about it. And Dumbledore of course..."

"And that someone tried to steal it,"

"So they tried to get into Vault 713, found out it wasn't there, and then came here looking for it-"

"Which would be why the troll was let it!"

"Exactly!"

Pleased with their power of reasoning, the three lions took a conclusive bite of their respective breakfasts and smiled at each other triumphantly. Now if only they knew what was _inside _the parcel, they would really be onto something.

Just as Hermione was about to speculate on what could possibly be worth the trouble of a three headed dog, a swarm of screeching birds interrupted. The owls swooped through the Great Hall laden with parcels and letters of various sizes. Through the crowd of feathers, Harry couldn't see Hedwig at first, until he realised that she was one of about six different owls all struggling to carry a long, inconspicuously shaped bundle of brown paper tied with string.

"Whoa! Thanks...I guess..." He breathed at the parcel was dropped most inelegantly on top of Harry's plate and the surrounding ones too. Hedwig gave a begrudging squawk and flapped off into the distance, before Harry had a chance to pay her anything for the trouble.

"You know what this is, don't you mate?!" Ron said excitedly, recognising the broom from the shape of the brown paper alone.

"Wow! Harry's got a Nimbus 2000!" Seamus Finnigan shouted across the table as a group of Gryffindor first years all ripped into the packaging. Soon, news of the broom got round and within seconds Harry was engulfed in a gathering group of excited students all waiting to get a look at the famous Nimbus 2000.

The broom was slick and polished to the extent that Harry could see him-self in the wooden handle as the light reflected off its shining surface. The individual twigs at the end of the broom were shaped smoothly into a rounded point, bound together with golden ribbon. The handle was long and delicately evened with the skill of an established broom-maker of the highest quality. The golden letters _Nimbus 2000 _were imprinted onto the top of the handle's deep brown wood in neat, italic writing as though to emphasise the broom's good make. It was all Harry could do to beam at the piece of craftsmanship he held in his hands.

"Do you know who sent it, Harry?" Hermione asked from her seat across the table. She was searching through the brown paper and string for some sort of note, but to no avail.

Harry thought about this for a second,

"Umm..no..." He lied, remembering his promise to Snape that no one could know. Of course, it didn't take long for him to work out that this was a present from Snape – probably in light of recent events – but he certainly didn't need half the Gryffindor table knowing that he was receiving expensive gifts from the greasy old dungeons' bat! Besides, it was the morning of Harry's first ever official Quidditch match – he didn't have time to be explaining things now.

_Wait a minute!? The first ever Quidditch match...in front of so many people...what if they all laugh at me...what if they see what a freak- I mean..idiot-I mean...oh! Whatever the hell I am, I know I'm going to ruin everything as always..._

Harry hadn't been nervous until that moment, having pre-occupied himself with thoughts of Vault 713 and the three headed dog, but now the looming feeling of trepidation was slowly creeping back into his thoughts. He took a shaky gulp of his spiced tea and set it back on the table with a decisive motion – as if to show people that it was time to leave him alone.

They did so readily, each student slipping away as though they'd never left their seats in the first place. All that remained were three first years, a Nimbus 2000, and a piled mess of breakfast plates and brown paper. Harry's face paled as he looked back down at his present, trying to summon up a sense of excitement that kept being overthrown by one of deep set dread.

"What is it, Harry?" Ron asked, wondering why anyone would possibly feel down after receiving the fastest broom ever made, "don't you like it? Because if not, I'm sure I could-"

"Oh, Ron! Just because you have the emotional range of a quaffle," Hermione chided, before addressing Harry, "It's your first match. It's only natural to be a little scared," She reassured, knowing that Harry was probably the best seeker Gryffindor had had since James Potter.

Harry nodded weakly and let his gaze fall back to the broom. To give his hands something to do besides wring in nervous agitation, Harry stroked his fingers over the engraved _Nimbus 2000 _words and breathed deeply. Like so many times, Harry longed for an adult to wish him luck; to tell him it was all going to be fine. More than that: He wanted someone to cheer him on in the crowd – to be proud of him no matter what.

It was as though a sudden spark was lit inside him when he realised that he may have just that. He looked down at the broom he was handling and realised how silly he was being. It had been a while since he had actually spoken to Professor Snape, and for some reason he was so used to assuming he was alone that he didn't stop to think that Snape could provide everything he wanted.

He swung his head tentatively over his shoulder, hoping to find the one man he knew he could trust.

From the teachers' table, Snape was just finishing his plate of food, having given his Slytherin team their customary Head of House pep-talk back in the common room. He was eyeing Harry and his friends and trying to suppress a smile at the excitement his little gift had caused. But soon wondered why Harry was looking more apprehensive and excited as the boy turned to look directly at him.

As Harry met the concerned eye of Professor Snape, he nodded and smiled to show that he was alright, and that he knew the gift was from him. Slightly relieved, Snape saw that Harry wasn't looking his best, even though he was evidently trying to keep his spirits up. With a subtle inclination of his head, Snape gestured towards the door to the Great Hall and allowed his lips to twitch into a reassuring smile. Harry responded thankfully, inclining his own head towards the doors in confirmation. Snape gave a sharp nod, and finished off the last mouthful of his food before getting out of his chair.

"I'm just going to the bathroom..." Harry said, making his excuses too quickly for Ron to offer to accompany him. He got up out of his chair and followed the potions master's sweeping robes out of the Hall, knowing that no one would ever assume that the two were leaving together.

_Harry must be nervous! What was I thinking, getting him a gift like that and not even asking him how he felt about the match?! _Snape thought angrily to himself as he made the brisk journey to the dungeons with Harry following subtly a few steps behind. He could almost feel the boy's anxiety from behind him; it was as if the way he was walking and breathing alone was enough to give away his state of mind.

Harry felt as though his legs were made entirely out of jelly, and wondered if they might even been stable enough to walk out onto the Quidditch pitch, let alone survive the entire game.

"Harry...you know you can always come to see me if you need to talk," Snape began once they were safely inside his office. It felt much easier for Severus speak to Harry now that everything was out in the open, but nevertheless he just couldn't risk anyone else knowing. Besides, he was still a Death Eater and a spy, whether it was a secret or not.

"I know, sir. I didn't think I'd be this nervous," Harry replied, resisting the instinctive urge to apologise, knowing that Snape would disapprove.

"Well it's perfectly alright to be Harry," Severus assured, "It's an important match after all. And the crowd are anticipating a good game from both teams. And for such a young seeker, you're bound to be feeling a little anxious," Snape said thinking that it would make Harry feel less hard on himself for feeling nervous.

Unfortunately, the words had quite the opposite effect. Or rather, they added insult to injury! On top of feeling bad for worrying, Harry's panic levels began to rise to beyond bearable as he listened to the Professor list all the reasons he had to be nervous. Instead of reassuring, it made Harry think of all the thousand things that could go wrong. Feeling his legs threaten to give way, Harry hobbled weakly over to his familiar sofa and sat without even asking to.

_Severus?! What for Merlin's sake were you thinking?! Way to make the boy feel better! Just tell him all the reasons to be afraid..._

_ I know! Why don't you tell him about all the casualties that occurred on the pitch last year? That'll be sure to settle the boy's nerves. _

_ Oh, Snape – only you could be sarcastic to yourself! _

Snape cursed himself for being so insensitive and went to sit next to Harry, rubbing small circles in his back like he had done weeks ago – only this time it wasn't such a begrudging act of kindness.

"I'm sorry Harry. There's nothing to worry about. No one's putting any pressure on you," He said levelly, hoping there was still time to rectify his mistake. The muscles of Harry's back noticeably relaxed with these words, and so Snape continued, "And I know you are a truly talented seeker...just like your father," he added the last few words only for Harry's sake, the words tasting sour in his mouth.

"But sir...it feels like I've suddenly forgotten everything! All the people that will be watching me – and I might let Wood down – and what if I fall off my broom?! I feel funny and I can't breath properly and my legs feel weird and-"

"Harry, slow down," Snape said firmly but kindly, "you are having a panic attack. It's perfectly natural. Are you breathing faster than usual?"

"Yes sir..." Harry said, his mouth feeling dry from the air.

"I see. And by 'weird' do you mean shaky and tingly?" Snape asked. _It's like trying to diagnose a five year old! _He thought, realising that Harry probably never had anyone explain these things to him as a young child.

"Yes sir..." Harry confirmed again.

"And are you feeling unwell?" He asked finally, already getting up and searching through his viles.

"Yes sir..." Harry said for the last time, knowing what was coming. Snape raised his chin in a reassuring manner and slipped a small dose of Calming Drought into his mouth. Harry screwed up his face in revulsion, but swallowed obediently, remembering how it had helped.

"Now, Harry. That's only a very small dose, so you should be perfectly alert for playing. But it will certainly help with the nerves," Snape said, re-stopping the vile and placing it back on one of the many shelves. In truth, Snape had barely given Harry enough to have any effect – knowing that the use of potions was technically disallowed during a Quidditch match. But Severus knew that the placebo effect was usually strong enough to help in these situations, which it certainly seemed to be doing already from the look of Harry's smiling face.

"Will you be watching, sir?" Harry asked hopefully, swinging his legs as though to test to see that they still worked.

"Of course, Harry. I am head of Slytherin after all..."

"Oh..." Harry looked down at his shoes. He had almost forgotten that Snape would want Slytherin to win.

"But – don't tell anyone – I'll be secretly cheering you on. I promise," Snape said with an excited tone in his voice, hoping to lift Harry's mood. It was true, he _would _be cheering Harry on, whether he would admit it or not.

"Really?!" Harry asked, emulating Snape's tone of voice.

"Of course Harry! And you know I'll be proud of you no matter what..." _'Proud'?! Where did that come from?_

_ So what are we up to now? Caring, kind, and now proud! Severus Snape...I am ashamed!_

A warm feeling filled Harry's chest as he got up to leave.

"Oh, sir..." Harry said, remembering something. He brought his voice down to an excited whisper, "Thank you very very much for the Nimbus 2000!" The 11 year old giggled as he looked around, relishing in having a secret to share with someone he trusted. Oh, he had his fair share of secrets with the Dursleys. But they were usually along the lines of 'don't tell anyone about the cupboard' or 'don't show anyone the scars'. Never 'don't tell anyone about the hugs and presents!'.

Snape shook his head kindly at Harry's boyish smile, and ruffled his raven fringe.

"You're more than welcome, Harry. Good luck" He whispered in return, giving Harry a gentle, encouraging push on the back to usher the boy out of the dungeons and on his way to the Quidditch pitch.

**Once again, thank you very much for reading! Please review...:)**


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